An  ArmyWoman 


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THE  PHILIPPINE 

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JAPAN 


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A  Palm-tree  Driveway,  Agafia,  Guam 


AN  ARMY  WOMAN 

IN  THE 

PHILIPPINES 


Extracts  from  Letters  of  an  Army  Officer's  Wife, 

Describing  Her  Personal  Experiences  in 

the  Philippine  Islands. 

By  CAROLINE  S.  SHUNK 


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1914. 

FRANKLIN  HUDSON  PUBLISHING  CO. 

Kansas  Citt,  Missouri. 


DEDICATED  TO   M.  C. 
TO  WHOM  THESE  LETTERS  WERE  WRITTEN, 


Copyright,  1916, 
By  CAROLINE  S.  SHUNK 


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PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE. 


While  many  books  have  been  written  on  the  Philip- 
pines and  the  East  generally  since  the  American  occupa- 
tion, it  has  been  a  woman's  task  to  finally  give  to  the 
reading  public  a  home  insight,  such  as  only  a  woman  can 
give,  to  the  life  in  the  Orient.  That  intimate  personal 
touch,  that  will  appeal  to  the  reader,  are  the  thoughts 
of  one  woman  conveyed  to  another  without  expectation 
that  the  letters  were  finally  to  be  put  in  book  form — it 
is  the  daily  life  of  an  Army  officer's  wife.  That  these 
letters  were  not  written  for  publication  enhances  their 
value,  because  of  the  kind  and  quality  of  the  information 
given.  After  a  reading  of  the  manuscript,  a  well-known 
critic  expressed  the  following  opinion :  "They  are  delight- 
ful, vivid,  interesting,  and  charmingly  written." 


^036303 


EN  ROUTE. 

San  Francisco,  February,  1909. 

Our  trunks  have  gone,  and  the  Colonel  is  down  at  the 
boat  on  duty,  while  I  am  sitting,  like  Marius  amid  the 
ruins,  surrounded  by  Japanese  baskets  and  satchels. 
Nothing  else  is  left  in  our  rooms.  We  are  engaged  in 
laying  a  substantial  pavement  of  goodly  intentions ;  not 
to  worry,  to  enjoy  everything  except  leprosy  or  small- 
pox, and  to  get  the  most  out  of  our  trip  and  our  station 
in  the  Philippines. 

The  Colonel  commands  the  troops,  and  has  all  of  the 
"fifty-seven  varieties."  The  boat  can  carry  two  thou- 
sand people,  but  not  that  many  will  be  aboard.  There 
are  twenty-five  regular  officers,  a  few  Army  ladies,  and 
many  civil  employees — clerks,  nurses,  school-teachers, 
and  two  young  girls  going  over  to  marry  American  men 
in  the  islands.  In  all,  there  are  one  hundred  and  twenty 
first-class  passengers,  about  the  same  number  of  second- 
class,  a  hundred  and  fifty  sailors,  and  the  same  number  of 
recruits.  Rank  or  length  of  service  is  observed  in  every 
detail  aboard  a  troop-ship.  State-rooms,  places  at  table, 
use  of  bath-rooms,  etc.,  are  allotted  to  the  highest  in 


8  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

rank,  the  eldest  in  service,  and  so  on  down  the  Hst.  We 
come  second,  which,  from  my  long  "following  of  the 
guidon,"  I  think  no  more  than  fair. 

I  must  tell  you  of  three  passengers  who  are  going 
across  the  Pacific  with  us,  who  bid  fair  to  be  interesting. 
Last  night  I  encountered  an  old-time  darky  mammy, 
sitting  in  the  hotel  lobby  beside  a  pile  of  luggage.  She 
wore  a  black  dress  and  white  apron  and  a  white  cap  was 
visible  under  her  mourning  bonnet.  I  felt  sure  that  she 
was  maid  to  some  Army  woman.  Sure  enough,  in  the 
writing-room  a  pretty,  white-haired  old  lady,  also  clad  in 
deep  mourning,  sat  at  one  of  the  desks.  It  was  Mme. 
X ,  the  mother  of  Major  X ,  who  is  to  be  sta- 
tioned at  our  camp.  She  is  going  to  the  Philippines  with 
her  son,  and  Lucindy,  her  maid  for  many  years,  and 
"raised  in  Kentucky,  bress  Gawd!"  is  going  with  her. 
The  Major  goes  about  with  his  tiny  old  mother  tucked 
under  his  arm,  and  Lucindy  following  in  the  "middle 
distance."     It  is  a  pretty  picture. 

We  yearn  for  a  Lucindy.  She  is  an  excellent  cook, 
her  mistress  says,  and  irons  the  Major's  white  linen  uni- 
forms to  perfection.     What  a  treasure  in  sepia! 

On  Board  U.  S.  A.  Transport  Sheridan, 

February,  1909. 
10:30  A.  M.  here  and  5:30  p.  m.  in  Chicago!     Five 
days  out  from  San  Francisco  and  three  days  from  Hono- 
lulu— that  is  as  near  as  I  can  tell  you  where  on  earth  we 
are.     When  this  scrawl  reaches  you,  we  ought  to  be  in 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  g 

Guam,  spending  "Guamish"  money,  which,  by  the  way, 
I  think  is  United  States  money. 

We  left  San  Francisco  at  noon.  The  day  was  beauti- 
fully clear,  and  so  many  flowers  were  sent  I  was  uncer- 
tain whether  I  was  saiUng  or  getting  married.  Roses, 
violets,  and  jonquils  heaped  the  sofa  in  our  state-room. 
We  stood  on  the  Uttle  bridge  aft  until  we  passed  the 
Golden  Gate,  and  the  pilot  crawled  down  a  wobbly  ladder, 
dropped  into  a  row-boat,  and  returned  to  the  world  we 
have  left. 

We  have  had  heavy  seas,  and  I  have  kept  to  my 
cabin — a  corner  front,  with  two  windows  and  two  port- 
holes. Do  you  remember  the  Frenchman  on  shipboard 
who,  when  asked  if  he  had  dined,  repHed,  "Quite  the 
contrary"?  I  wish  the  Colonel  may  never  again  com- 
mand anything  less  stationary  than  a  farm. 

On  Board  U.  S.  A.  Transport  Sheridan, 

February,  1909. 

Last  night  we  had  our  first  sight  of  land  for  two  weeks; 
it  was  the  island  of  Rota,  belonging  to  Germany;  just  a 
dark  outUne  in  the  moonlight — the  ghost  of  an  island  on 
that  gray  sea. 

We  hung  over  the  rail  and  gazed  and  gazed.  It  was 
land.  I  am  sure  that  we  experienced  all  the  sensations 
of  a  Columbus.  Everyone  shouted,  "Wie  geht's?  "  and  all 
the  German  they  could  think  of;  but  not  a  Hght,  not 
a  sign. 

The  Colonel  and  I  were  up  early  and  out  on  the  bridge 
to  see  the  ship  go  into  the  harbor  of  Guam. 


lo  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Agana,  Island  op  Guam, 

February,  1909. 
The  harbor  here  is  narrow,   between  long,   low 
coral  reefs.     We  are  anchored  about  half  a  mile  from  the 
United  States  gunboat  Concord,  the  regular  station  ship, 
and  three  miles  from  shore. 

Agana,  "the  city  of  San  Ignacio,"  is  the  seat  of  gov- 
ernment at  Guam.  It  is  situated  on  a  creek,  called  the 
Port  of  Apra.  Ships  anchor  two  or  three  miles  out  off 
Punta  Piti,  where  all  passengers,  stores,  and  mail  are 
taken  by  launch  to  the  landing-place. 

From  Piti  there  is  a  smooth,  white  shell-road,  six 
miles  to  Agafia,  where  the  Governor's  house  is  located, 
also  a  military  hospital,  two  hospitals  for  natives,  the 
barracks,  an  artillery  depot,  a  prison,  and  a  town  hall, 
which  contains  the  administrator's  office  and  by  the  na- 
tives is  called  the  "shop."  The  wife  of  the  Governor  is 
estabHshing  a  school  for  natives.  There  is  also  a  college 
for  boys  and  a  girls'  school. 

The  cathedral  at  Agana,  so  Father  P tells  me, 

was  built  about  1500,  and  is  the  oldest  church  on  the 
island.  It  is  very  beautiful  in  hne  and  color,  and  the 
carvings  in  the  interior  are  exquisitely  delicate.  Earth- 
quakes have  tumbled  down  one  corner  and  made  an 
opening  at  the  side  so  large  that  a  four-mule  team  could 
drive  through.  The  good  father  told  us  that  he  hoped 
to  Uve  to  see  the  cathedral  restored  to  its  former  grandeur 
by  the  people  of  the  United  States.  I  am  sure  I  hope  so. 
It  seems  a  pity  for  any  old  and  beautiful  building  to  be 
allowed  to  crumble  away. 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  ii 

We  stepped  softly  over  the  worn  floor  of  stone  without 
seeming  to  disturb  a  native  family  who  were  on  their 
knees,  piously  saying  their  prayers.  Although  few  vis- 
itors from  afar  come  to  Guam,  they  did  not  raise  their 
eyes  to  look  at  us,  except  a  Uttle  girl,  who  peeked  shyly 
from  behind  her  mother's  skirts. 

Some  of  the  churches  are  built  of  stone,  roofed  with 
reed  thatching.  The  one  in  the  capital  has  an  iron  roof. 
In  the  villages  the  town  halls  are  built  of  bamboo  or 
reed  grass. 

Years  ago  a  subsidized  mail-steamer  used  to  make  a 
trip  between  Guam  and  Manila  every  three  months; 
now  a  United  States  Army  transport  stops  once  a  month 
en  route  to  the  Philippines. 

We  had  all  heard  of  the  isolation  of  this  post,  which 
has  been  the  "Botany  Bay"  and  the  "last  ditch"  of 
naval  officers  for  many  years.  You  will  remember  the 
amusing  episode  during  the  Spanish  War,  when  some  of 
our  war-ships  were  sent  to  take  Guam.  They  arrived, 
and  began  firing  high.  At  once  a  boat  put  off  from  shore, 
and  a  Spanish  official,  resplendent  in  gold  lace  and  smiles, 
came  aboard,  bowing  and  apologizing  for  not  returning 
the  "salute,"  as  they  were  "out  of  powder."  Oh  dear, 
think  of  it!  They  were  being  bombarded,  and  so  out  of 
the  world  that  they  did  not  even  know  that  there  was 
a  war. 


12  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Guam,  February,  1909. 

Yesterday  a  wireless  came  from  the  Governor  and 

Mrs.  D ,  inviting  about  thirty  of  the  service  people 

to  luncheon  at  the  palace  in  Agana;  a  launch  to  be  sent 
promptly  at  10  a.  m.  We  all  scurried  into  our  trunks 
down  below,  and  came  forth  arrayed  in  white  dresses, 
with  hats,  gloves,  and  card-cases,  while  the  men  were 
spick  and  span  in  their  white  linen  uniforms  with  gold 
trimmings. 

We  toddled  down  the  ship's  ladder,  holding  on  to 
rope  rails,  the  sea-breeze  Ufting  our  thin  skirts  auda- 
ciously. The  launch  was  manned  by  natives,  brown  and 
bare  of  legs  and  arms,  who  rowed  smoothly  through  the 
gorgeous  green  and  dark  blue  sea,  past  the  white  coral 
reefs,  and  up  to  the  little  dock. 

A  naval  officer  met  us  and  punctihously  read  from  a 
list,  wired  to  the  Governor  from  the  ship,  the  names  of 
the  guests;  putting  us  into  small,  two-seated  wagons, 
"according  to  rank." 

Our  wagon  was  drawn  by  a  sorry-looking  pony.  The 
native  driver  wore  a  cotton  shirt  and  loose  drawers  and 
a  finely  woven  straw  hat  rested  on  his  mat  of  dark  hair. 
He  prodded  the  poor  beast  with  a  cruelly  sharp  stick 
when  he  was  not  engaged  in  lifting  his  hat  piously  to  the 
wayside  crosses. 

On  one  side  of  the  road  are  tall  palms,  cocoanut-  and 
bamboo-trees  and  on  the  other  side  the  wide,  yellow  strip 
of  beach,  with  high  banks  of  coral  reef,  over  which  breaks 
continually  a  rainbow  sea. 

We  drove  through  groves  of  cocoa-,  palm-,  and  pepper- 


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An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  13 

trees,  past  native  huts  of  grass  and  bamboo.  One,  a 
school-house,  upon  a  high  platform,  had  four  walls  of 
native  matting  and  no  roof.  Through  the  openings  we 
could  see  the  native  teacher,  a  nice-looking  girl,  pointing 
to  a  blackboard,  on  which  was  written  in  large  capitals: 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON,  HIM  PRESIDENTE 
OF  U.  S. 

THEODORE  ROOSEVELT,  HIM  PRESIDENTE 
U.  S.  AND  GUAM. 

Agafia  is  a  city  or  large  town  of  nipa  houses.  The 
streets  are  narrow,  and  there  are  no  sidewalks.  We 
walked  in  the  road.  A  large  square  in  front  of  the  fine 
old  palace  is  laid  out  in  formal  fashion,  with  many 
bright  flowers. 

The  palace,  which  takes  up  one  side  of  the  square, 
is  a  long,  white,  two-storied  building,  with  "Spain" 
written  large  in  its  planning  and  building.  It  is  cool  and 
comfortable,  with  immense  rooms,  halls,  and  porches, 
suitable  to  its  purpose  and  the  country. 

Behind  the  palace  is  a  tropical  garden,  said  to  be  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  in  the  Orient.  There  are  trees  of 
orange,  lemon,  cocoanut,  custard  apple,  lime,  date,  fig, 
papaya,  mango,  bread-fruit,  and  oUve,  all  in  fruit  and 
flower  at  the  same  time.  A  kitchen  garden  is  planted 
with  every  variety  of  vegetable,  grown  large  and  fair,  and 
flowers  of  briUiant  hue  and  almost  overpowering  perfume. 

A  wide  stone  balcony  extends  over  a  part  of  the 
garden,  with  a  carved  rail  of  finestmarble.     In  the  center 


14  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippings 

is  an  ancient  sun-dial,  which  bears  a  Spanish  inscription, 
"I  mark  only  the  bright  hours." 

We  were  received  most  graciously  by  the  Governor  and 
his  wife.  The  Governor  wore  the  white  uniform  of  a 
captain  in  the  Navy,  and  "Mrs.  Governor"  looked  very 
handsome  in  an  exquisitely  fine  hand-embroidered  dress 
of  linen.  She  takes  a  great  interest  in  the  natives  and 
in  this  island  home. 

I^uncheon  was  served  on  numerous  round  tables;  the 
native  flower,  cardena  de  amor,  in  pinky  sweetness,  part  of 
the  decorations.  A  native  band  played  outside  in  the 
square.  The  Governor's  cook  is  a  Chinaman,  but  native 
boys  served  the  tables  quietly  and  well.  We  all  enjoyed 
the  dishes :  jelly  and  bread-fruit  (which  looks  and  tastes 
like  sweet  potato  sliced  very  thin  and  fried) ;  shoots  of 
the  cocoa  palm,  cut  up  and  served  in  a  salad;  papaya 
(allee  samee  pink  melon),  with  cream  and  red  pepers; 
and  watermelon  ice,  with  delicious  nut-cakes  and  coffee. 

In  the  cool  of  the  afternoon  we  had  tea  in  the  balcony. 
Great  pink  petals  drifted  down  upon  us,  and  the  peacocks 
strutted  about  in  gorgeous  pride. 

But  there  is  another  side  to  all  this  opulence  of  beauty. 
Fishing  is  so  dangerous  in  Guam  that  the  Pope  has  issued 
an  edict  allowing  his  people  to  eat  meat  on  Fridays. 
Sharks  are  numerous,  and  cut  off  the  native  population 
alarmingly.  There  is  also  a  fish  called  the  "black  mack- 
erel," about  forty  inches  long,  with  great  strength  of  jaw, 
which  is  as  dangerous  as  the  shark.  The  coral,  too,  is  a 
menace  to  Ufe;  for  if  a  human  being  is  thrown  against  it 
hard  enough  to  bruise  the  flesh,  blood-poisoning  follows. 


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An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  15 

Leprosy  and  another  frightful  disease  that  eats  the 
face  away  are  prevalent  in  this  island.  Those  who  are 
afflicted  with  it — and  we  have  seen  several — wear  a  face- 
covering  or  hide  their  infirmity  behind  their  poor  hands. 
Consumption  is  everywhere,  and  many  of  the  natives 
have  the  thin,  blue-brown  look  which  is  the  indication 
of  it. 

Two  small  hospitals — one  for  native  men  and  the 
other  for  women  and  children — bear  testimony  to  the 
splendid  work  done  by  American  women.  One  bears  the 
name  of  the  Maria  Schroeder  Hospital  and  the  other 
the  Suzanne  Hospital.  I  went  into  the  one  for  children 
with  the  Governor.  The  native  matron  is  a  fine-looking, 
kindly  woman.  At  first  they  had  difficulty  in  per- 
suading the  mothers  to  bring  their  sick  children,  but 
finally  they  came  and  stayed  with  their  little  brown 
babies.  In  the  ward  where  we  softly  stepped  were  six 
small  white  cots  (surgical  cases  only),  and  beside  two  of 
them  the  mothers  sat  on  the  floor,  looking  with  anxious, 
loving  eyes  at  their  sick  children. 

So  you  see  even  this  earthly  paradise  is  not  without 
its  load  of  human  misery. 

Mme.  X and  I  were  driven  back  to  the  landing 

in  the  Governor's  carriage. 

On  Board  U.  S.  Transport  Sheridan, 

March,  1909. 
Only  two  days  from  Manila!     Difl^erent  days  now; 
different  skies  and  stars  and  stamps,  but  the  same  old 
moon  and  sun,  and  ever  the  same  old  love. 


1 6  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

The  long  journey  is  nearing  an  end,  and  I  am  weary 
of  the  waste  of  waters,  and  long  to  see  good,  brown  earth 
again.  The  sight  of  a  friendly  lamp-post,  or  a  clothes- 
pole,  or  any  homely,  familiar,  stationary  object,  would  be 
most  acceptable  at  this  moment.  Never  say  "  as  common 
as  dirt"  again.  Dirt,  let  me  tell  you,  is  a  precious  com- 
modity in  the  middle  of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  when  one  is 
homesick  for  land.  And  homesickness  is  one  thing  "the 
powers"  will  learn  to  reckon  with  in  these  long  tours  of 
foreign  service;  it  is  as  deadly  as  germs,  and  no  drugs 
can  cure  it.  Two  soldiers  are  ill  now  with  homesickness 
— really  ill.  It  is  patriotism  wrong  side  out,  I  suppose, 
since  love  of  home  inspires  both. 

It  is  ID  in  the  morning  here  and  7 130  last  night  with 
you.  My  "Angel  Warrior"  is  having  inspection  of  the 
ship,  while  I  am  strugghng  with  a  playful  breeze  that 
carries  my  letter  to  the  far  corners  of  the  deck.  The 
orderly,  in  stiff  khaki  and  white  gloves,  makes  dignified 
little  trots  to  catch  the  paper,  so  you  owe  this  scribble 
to  him. 

At  sunset  we  are  to  pick  up  land — the  volcano  near 
Legaspi.  I  must  pack  while  the  sea  is  like  glass,  and  see 
the  Straits  of  San  Bernardino  and  the  many  small  islands 
as  we  pass  through. 

Next  Day. 

At  daybreak  this  morning  we  are  under  the  lee  of 

I/Uzon   Island.     A   light-house,   looking   exactly   like   a 

pepper-pot,  stands  high  on  a  rocky  cliff  on  the  Island. 

The   blue   and   greeen    shore-Une   unfolds    into   groves 


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An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  17 

of  palm  and  bamboo-tree.  It  has  the  freshness  of  a  new- 
world  to  our  ocean- weary  eyes. 

Last  night  the  officers  and  we  few  Army  women  gath- 
ered on  the  upper  deck  to  watch  for  the  first  sign  of  land. 
Equally  silent  and  eager,  the  soldiers  and  sailors,  who  are 
going  over  to  join  the  fleet,  crowded  the  decks  below.  A 
look-out  was  stationed  up  in  the  crow's-nest  to  give  the 
joyful  news. 

A  star  appeared  low  on  the  sky-rim,  bUnked,  went 
out,  and  shone  steadily.  It  was  the  revolving  light  on  a 
small  island.  The  sailor  in  the  crow's-nest  called  shrilly, 
"Land  ho!"  and  a  mighty  shout  of  joy  went  up  from 
our  "first-class"  fighting-men. 

After  all,  we  are  loath  to  leave  the  ship.  It  is  part  of 
home — a  bit  of  the  United  States  afloat — and  it  is  the 
unknown  that  awaits  us  ashore. 


i8  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 


II. 

MANILA. 

Manii^a,  Philippine  Ist.anps, 

March  4,  1909. 

Manila  at  last!  From  the  transport,  which  drew 
gently  alongside  the  big  wharf — the  only  one  for  large 
sea-going  ships  in  the  Orient,  by  the  way — the  city,  with 
its  long,  low  wall,  many  churches  and  convents,  narrow 
streets,  and  processions  passing  constantly  to  and  fro,  has 
a  somber  look.  The  wharf  presented  a  cheerful  pano- 
rama of  khaki-clad  soldiers,  ladies  in  white  dresses,  offi- 
cers, civilians,  and  natives  in  loose  white  cotton  trousers 
and  shirts,  with  the  tails  of  the  latter  garments  worn 
outside ! 

What  a  joy  it  was  to  walk  down  the  gang-plank  and 
set  foot  on  earth  once  more!  And  now,  after  two  days 
ashore,  I  feel  as  though  it  were  all  a  comic  opera.  Soon 
the  bell  will  ring,  and  the  curtain  will  come  down. 

Our  hotel,  the  best  in  Manila,  was  once  a  palace. 
The  ground  floor  (Uterally)  is  of  hard-pounded  dirt,  with 
rough  cobble-stone  paving.  At  the  entrance  stand  two 
bronze  knights  in  armor,  holding  aloft  lamps  to  light  the 
passer-by  on  the  "Street  of  the  Palace." 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  19 

In  the  middle  of  the  building  is  the  inevitable  tropical 
garden;  and  we  write,  visit,  and  eat  under  the  shade  of 
the  bamboo  and  the  palm. 

One  mounts  a  flight  of  pohshed  mahogany  stairs,  over 
which,  from  a  bronze  trellis,  hang  bunches  of  grapes — 
pale  green  glass,  through  which  electricity  sheds  a  garish 
light — to  a  corridor,  where  spacious  chambers,  now  used 
as  bed-rooms,  oj>en  behind  heavily  carved  doors.  Al- 
though the  windows  which  open  upon  the  street  have 
gratings,  the  guests  complain  of  the  depredations  of  the 
"thief  in  the  night,"  who,  equipped  with  a  long-handled 
stick  with  a  hook  on  the  end,  deftly  picks  out  through 
the  bars  such  articles  of  apparel  or  ornament  as  chance 
to  please  his  fancy. 

The  rooms  of  the  entire  second  floor  op)en  from  a 
porch,  which  is  the  dining-room  of  the  hotel;  privacy,  as 
the  proprietor  assures  us,  being  secured  by  tall  paper 
screens,  which  serve  as  doors!  We  step  from  the  tables, 
where  people  are  eating,  behind  a  screen  into  our  room, 
which  must  be  thirty  feet  square,  with  ceiUng  in  pro- 
portion, and  decorated  with  great  red,  pink,  and  cream 
angels  holding  wreaths  of  flowers,  such  as  could  bloom 
only  on  Oriental  walls. 

The  floor  is  mahogany,  dark  and  gHstening.  A  Fili- 
pino boy  walks  about  languidly,  sweeping  with  a  tiny, 
flat  brush.  There  are  two  tall,  exquisitely  carved  old 
four-posters,  with  curtains  of  netting  carefully  tucked  in; 
but  they  are  more  satisfying  to  look  at  than  to  sleep  upon, 
the  mattress  and  springs  being  composed  of  cane  woven 
in  squares,  with  a  sheet  on  that  and  another  for  a  cover, 


20  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

to  complete  the  bed.  In  the  morning  one  is  printed  like 
a  waffle  and  expects  to  be  eaten  with  maple  syrup.  The 
room  looks  so  regal  that  the  Colonel  amuses  me  by 
salaaming  low  and  inquiring  "what  my  royal  highness 
desires."  I  am  expecting  serfs  to  appear,  and  shall  cut 
off  their  heads  promptly  and  royally. 

Our  dresser  deserves  mention.  A  large  mirror  in  a 
much-gilded  frame  hangs  over  a  long,  narrow  table 
draped  in  red  velvet,  with  white  linen  coverings,  lace- 
trimmed.  It  looks  so  much  like  an  altar  I  do  not  know 
whether  to  say  my  prayers  or  comb  my  hair. 

OS  this  room  is  a  long  porch,  with  shding  wooden 
shutters  half-way  down  to  the  floor,  and  from  a  raiUng 
below  the  shutters  hangs  a  cotton  curtain,  which  is  all 
that  protects  us  from  the  "Street  of  the  Palace"  below. 
And  this,  forsooth,  is  our  bath-room — a  shower-bath,  in 
which  I  was  nearly  submerged  on  the  first  trial. 

"Too  much  of  water  hast  thou,  poor  OpheUa." 
Verily,  we  are  between  the  devil  of  the  dining-room  and 
the  deep  sea  of  the  porch  curtain. 

One  could  be  bewitched  of  Manila.  I  should  be  in 
the  seventh  heaven  if  we  were  to  be  stationed  here;  but 
alas!  we  are  awaiting  orders  farther  north,  up  in  the  real 
jungle.  I  fancy  we  shall  have  several  kinds  of  thrills 
while  we  are  making  a  home  in  that  wild  country. 

Manila,  Philippine  Islands, 
March,  1909. 
I  have  already  taken  in  all  I  can  read  or  hear  about 


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An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  21 

the  city,  but  there  are  no  guide-books  at  hand.  The  old 
wall  is  exquisite  in  the  coloring  time  alone  can  give,  and 
the  design  of  the  gates  is  beautiful.  The  wall  was  built 
in  1590  by  the  Chinese,  and  used  to  be  two  or  three  miles 
in  length;  now  the  gates  are  opened  for  the  sea-breeze 
and  to  let  traffic  in  and  out,  and  earthquakes  have  tum- 
bled them  down  in  places  and  cracked  the  walls.  To 
the  north  is  the  Pasig  River,  a  dirty  and  evil-smelhng 
stream,  which  divides  the  walled  city;  west  is  the  sea 
and  the  moats,  paved,  and  with  great  sluices  to  let  the 
water  in.  They  are  drained  now  and  overgrown  with 
weeds  and  tropical  vegetation.  There  were  once  eight 
drawbridges.  Doesn't  it  sound  mediaeval?  Years  and 
more  years  ago  they  were  drawn  up  at  midnight  and  let 
down  again  at  4  o'clock  in  the  morning  as  a  precaution 
against  night  attacks  by  the  festive  pirate.  The  earth- 
quake of  1852  frightened  the  inhabitants  more  than  the 
pirates,  however;    so  the  bridges  were  left  down. 

Manila  is  truly  Spanish,  and  those  old  Spaniards  built 
to  last.  We  Americans  may  disfigure  this  ancient  strong- 
hold with  flats  and  hotels,  introduce  electric  cars  and 
automobiles,  and  extinguish  the  omnipresent  germ,  but 
the  city  is  Spanish  despite  us. 

I  like  the  coat  of  arms  of  Manila — "La  muy  noble  y 
siempre  loyal  ciudad."  ("The  very  noble  and  always 
loyal  city.") 

Ah,  well!  the  smells  and  bugs  and  dirt  are  disquiet- 
ing, of  course,  but  it  is  far  more  interesting  than  I  had 
dreamed. 


22  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Manila,  Philipine  Islands, 

March,  1909. 

We  went  out  shopping  at  6  o'clock  this  morning,  while 
it  was  still  comparatively  cool.  Everything  is  wide  open 
in  the  morning,  and  the  streets  are  filled  with  half -naked 
Chinese  cooUes,  driving  queer  little  carts  or  lounging  in 
doorways,  and  natives  poking  along,  seemingly  in  a 
dream,  wearing  always  white  cotton  trousers  and  shirts 
with  the  tails  in  evidence.  It  is  really  a  cool  and  sensible 
dress  for  this  hot  country — when  one  gets  used  to  the 
tails.  The  native  women  dress  in  brilUant  colors.  Their 
skirts  are  made  with  trains  and  are  usually  tucked  up, 
reveaUng  bare  feet  in  heelless  sUppers,  their  shuffling  gait 
being  due,  no  doubt,  to  the  effort  to  keep  their  shoes  on. 
Low-necked,  big-sleeved  pina  waists,  with  the  stiff  neck- 
handkerchief,  complete  a  costume  neither  pretty  nor 
comfortable  to  my  eyes.  These  women  sit  in  their  door- 
ways or  serve  customers  in  their  shops,  smoking  huge 
cigars  or  chewing  the  betel  nut,  which  reddens  their 
mouths  and  Hps  to  a  deep  crimson. 

We  went  to  the  Kscolta,  where  the  European  shops 
are,  and  I  was  disappointed.  I  hke  much  better  the 
Rosario,  with  its  funny  little  stalls  and  Chinese  goods. 
The  Chinos  make  deUghtful  wicker  furniture  of  every 
description,  even  beds;  but  we  wisely  brought  those 
from  the  States,  as  being  nearer  bug-proof.  The  Fili- 
pinos are  silversmiths  and  engravers,  and  carve  every- 
thing— even  Americanos,  when  the  occasion  offers.  You 
should  see  the  Fihpino  candlesticks,  with  cunning  glass 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  23 

globes — perfectly  adorable.  Curiously  enough,  all  the 
drug  stores  seem  to  be  run  by  Germans. 

Funny  Httle  carriages  fly  about  the  streets,  and  the 
Colonel,  wishing  to  go  to  the  cable  office,  hailed  one. 
We  bumped  along,  wigwagging  from  side  to  side  of  the 
street,  until  the  Colonel  took  the  reins  and  drove  to  the 
right  place.  At  that  moment  a  great  carabao,  drawing 
a  heavily  loaded  wagon,  lumbered  along  the  narrow  way, 
and,  as  I  saw  no  room  for  us  or  our  little  equipage,  I  made 
a  hasty  exit  over  the  wheel  and  ran  into  the  doorway  of 
the  cable  office.  A  half -naked,  sleepy-eyed  driver  pulled 
the  carabao  around  by  a  rope  fastened  in  his  nose,  and 
gazed  at  us  with  unemotional  eyes. 

The  native  women  come  to  the  hotel  and,  sitting  on 
the  floor  in  corsetless  freedom,  sell  from  baskets  exquisite 
embroidered  goods  at  ridiculously  low  prices.  What  will 
you  have?    Jade  and  a  mandarin  coat  is  the  last  cry  here. 

Manii<a,  PhiIvIppine  Islands, 
March,  1909. 
Behold  us  in  our  best  white  clothes,  driving  on  the 
famous  Luneta  in  a  low  victoria  drawn  by  two  sleek,  fat 
ponies,  om*  driver  immaculate  in  white  suit,  high  patent- 
leather  boots,  belt,  and  cap.  The  Luneta  is  not  all  my 
fancy  had  painted,  being  only  a  small  circle,  with  two 
band-stands  that  at  night  gHtter  with  electric  lights. 
The  land  has  been  filled  in,  pushing  back  the  water  of 
the  bay;  but  there  is  not  the  roll  of  surf  I  had  been 
told  about. 


24  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

The  bay  is  beautiful,  with  the  war-ships  anchored 
near  Cavite,  the  naval  station;  and  we  have  the  real 
thing  in  sunsets  and  moonhght.  The  colors  on  land  and 
sea  are  rainbow- tinted. 

The  Constabulary  Band  plays  divinely,  and  a  heter- 
ogeneous crowd  rides,  drives,  and  walks  on  the  Luneta  or 
sits  about  the  band-stands.  People  roll  by  in  carriages, 
carromatos,  carts,  and  many  ride  horseback.  And  such 
people!  EngHshmen,  Chinamen  in  gorgeous  silks,  FiU- 
pinos,  Japanese  in  gay  kimonos,  swarthy  Spaniards,  our 
own  soldiers  in  khaki,  and  sailors  in  blue  flannel,  priests 
in  white,  black,  and  brown  robes,  Burmese  and  Hindu 
gentlemen  in  turbans,  Army  and  Navy  officers  in  white 
uniforms  with  gold  ornaments  on  collars  and  caps,  and 
ladies  in  calUng  or  evening  dress — a  shifting  kaleidoscope 
of  color. 

When  the  music  peals  out  "The  Star  -  Spangled  Ban- 
ner," all  the  Americans  rise,  some  of  the  Filipinos  follow 
their  example,  and  a  few  Englishmen  politely  raise  their 
hats.  Then  the  band  marches  off,  and  everybody  races 
away  to  dinner. 

We  drove  Mme.  X to  a  dinner-party  and  dis- 
missed our  carriage  to  walk  back  to  the  hotel.  No 
white  person  walks  here,  however — it  is  too  hot;  so  we 
concluded  to  try  the  street-car.  We  sat  in  the  middle, 
and  thus  unwittingly  saved  a  cent  apiece.  The  first 
four  seats  behind  the  motorman  were  marked  "First 
Class,"  and  the  rest  were  duly  labeled  "Second  Class"  and 
cost  a  cent  less.     The  natives  stared  at  us  and  giggled, 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  25 

thinking  it  droll  that  "Americanos"  should  ride  second- 
class. 

The  slowness  of  all  things  here  is  amazing,  although 
the  swiftness  of  some  of  the  foreigners  is  whispered  be- 
hind closed  doors — or  screens,  to  be  more  exact. 

Manila,  Phiuppine  Islands, 

March,  1909. 
We  have  just  had  a  ghastly  experience.     Mrs.  D- 


and  I  wished  to  see  the  church  of  Saint  Augustine,  noted 
for  its  carvings  and  a  very  old  and  curious  pipe-organ 
made  of  bamboo.  At  the  entrance  an  old  man  was 
sweeping  out  flowers,  and  a  group  of  natives  stood  at  the 
open  door  of  the  church.  It  was  a  funeral;  and,  to  our 
horror,  we  saw  that  the  pall-bearers  had  set  down  the 
hired  coffin  and  propped  up  the  corpse,  a  FiUpino  man 
in  a  black  coat  and  white  shirt,  while  a  photographer 
made  ready  to  take  a  picture  of  the  casket  and  its  oc- 
cupant.    We  turned  and  fled  back  to  the  hotel. 

Last  evening  Colonel  F took  us  driving.     Both 

officers  had  been  over  this  ground,  fighting  during  the 
first  part  of  the  insurrection. 

We  drove  along  the  Male'con  Drive,  the  road  built 
since  the  Americans  took  control.  Old  Fort  Santiago 
was  the  first  place  we  visited.  It  is  the  Bunker  Hill  of 
Manila,  and  full  of  interest.  The  building  on  top  is  new, 
and  is  now  used  as  a  division  headquarters  for  the  Army. 
In  the  inner  quadrangle  General  Merritt,  of  the  United 
States  Army,  signed  the  articles  of  capitulation  in  1898. 


26  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

There  are  several  tiny  houses  in  the  inclosure  of  the  fort, 
where  the  wives  and  children  of  American  officers  were 
put  for  safety  during  the  insurrection.  The  inner  court 
is  beautiful,  with  palms  and  bamboo-trees,  grass  and 
flowers. 

The  fort  has  been  changed  but  Httle  in  the  last  three 
hundred  years.  We  walked  around  the  walls,  and  saw 
the  cells  where  it  is  said  dreadful  deeds  were  done  and 
are  still  whispered  about.  One  could  not  stand  upright 
in  these  cells,  they  are  so  low.  Underground  passages,  a 
circular  wall,  a  stairway,  and  secret  cells  have  been  found, 
and  skeletons  have  been  unearthed,  walled  into  the  mas- 
onry. We  were  told  that  the  American  soldiers  found  in 
one  of  these  underground  dungeons  a  woman  with  a 
daughter  sixteen  years  old,  the  child  having  been  born 
the  day  after  the  mother  was  imprisoned.  Of  course  we 
enjoyed  the  thrill  of  these  gruesome  tales. 

It  was  from  this  old  fort  that  the  signal  was  fired  to 
begin  the  battle  of  Manila  Bay.  The  Spanish  colonel 
who  was  ordered  to  put  the  ancient,  rusted  guns  on  Fort 
Santiago  into  firing  trim,  realizing  the  hopelessness  of  it, 
conunitted  suicide. 

Two  other  flags  besides  our  own  have  waved  over 
Fort  Santiago:  Spain's,  of  course,  and  in  1762  England's 
for  a  Httle  time.  We  watched  the  sunset,  a  cannon 
boomed,  and  the  Stars  and  Strij>es  were  slowly  lowered 
for  the  night. 

The  Army  and  Navy  Club  is  one  of  the  pleasant  places 
in  Manila.  There  the  ladies  can  dine  in  comfort  in  a 
grill,   and  several  dinner-parties   were  in  progress  the 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  27 

night  we  dined  there.  The  tables  were  gay  with  flowers 
and  candles  with  Chinese  shades,  which  shed  a  pretty 
Ught  on  the  evening  gowns  of  the  women  and  the  white 
uniforms  of  the  officers.  The  inner  coiu^t  is  a  charming 
garden.  Chinese  and  Japanese  lanterns  hung  in  the 
trees  like  luminous  fruits. 

The  nights  are  hot,  with  a  hundred  insects  buzzing 
about  one's  ears.  This,  with  odors  of  sandalwood, 
bamboo,  and  inadequate  plumbing,  makes  Hfe  something 
less  than  unalloyed  bliss. 

Manila,  Philippine  Islands, 

March,  1909. 

I  have  just  hired  a  cook;  a  much  more  solemn  under- 
taking than  selecting  a  mere  husband;  in  fact,  the  cook 
hired  me.  He  is  a  Chinaman,  and  I  understood  not  a 
word,  excepting  that  he  wanted  fifty  pesos  a  month, 
and  that  a  "fliend"  had  sent  him,  said  "fliend"  being 

the  Chinese  cook  of  Colonel  and  Mrs.  B .     He  wears 

nice  clothes:  pale-blue  Hnen  trousers,  a  long,  dark  blue 
linen  gown,  heelless  black  cloth  shoes,  a  native  straw 
hat,  and  his  hair  in  a  pig-tail. 

We  start  on  our  journey  northward  Wednesday,  with 
bags,  bundles,  trunks,  furniture,  and  the  new  cook. 
Until  then,  farewell. 


28  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 


III. 

SETTLING  A  HOME  IN  THE  TROPICS. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Philippine  Islands, 

March,  1909. 

At  last  we  have  reached  the  end  of  our  long  journey. 
Here  we  unpack  our  household  goods,  and  make  a  home 
in  the  wilderness.  After  twenty  years  of  our  own  Indian 
frontier,  from  Dakota  bUzzards  to  Arizona's  burning 
sands,  in  adobe  houses  in  Texas,  in  tents,  and  on  the 
rolling  prairies,  here  we  are  in  the  tropics,  making  a  home 
in  the  shadow  of  an  extinct  volcano,  with  the  Southern 
Cross  above  us,  but  still  under  the  Stars  and  Stripes. 

We  left  Manila  with  many  backward  looks.  In  the 
depot  on  the  day  of  our  departure  the  Colonel  put  me 
in  the  middle  of  the  covered  platform,  it  being  the 
cleanest  place,  and  went  to  check  our  baggage — a  simple 
proposition  in  the  States,  but  very  complicated  here.  It 
took  exactly  one  hour  and  fifty  minutes  to  accompUsh  it 
and  I  should  not  dare  say  to  how  many  men  and  boys 
(natives,  of  course)  assisted  in  the  operation.  Every 
trunk  had  to  be  weighed,  checked,  and  loaded.  A  United 
States  baggageman  would  have  expired  to  see  it  done. 


o 


32 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  29 

Meantime  I  stood,  with  eight  boxes,  bags,  and  bun- 
dles about  me,  as  all  the  benches  were  occupied,  or  had 
been,  by  smokers  of  both  sexes,  and  all  of  them  champion 
spitters  of  the  world.  A  circle  of  Chinamen,  FiUpinos, 
and  Hindus,  men,  women,  and  children,  closed  me  in. 
They  were  all  smoking,  and  I  was  in  the  midst  of  the 
"firing-line."  My  freshly  pressed  white  linen  suit  and 
white  shoes  seemed  an  irresistible  target. 

Small  boys,  each  wearing  pinned  to  his  shirt-front  a 
tin  plate  with  a  number,  kept  making  futile  grabs  at  my 
bundles,  with  the  design  of  carrying  them  to  any  one  of 
the  three  little  trains  near  by.  They  were  depot  porters. 
I  waved  my  hand  and  gave  utterance  to  the  only  Span- 
ish I  knew:  "Poco  tiempo!"  It  seemed  to  suspend 
proceedings. 

We  left  the  hotel  without  the  Chinese  cook,  who 
failed  to  appear.  The  Colonel  rushed  to  the  club — that 
clearing-house  for  all  Army  and  Navy  woes — and  con- 
sulted with  the  affable  secretary  on  the  non-appearance 
of  our  treasure.  He  assured  him  that  the  "boy"  (all 
men  servants  are  "boys")  would  come  to  the  train  or 
send  a  substitute,  and  said  he  had  never  known  a  Chi- 
naman fail  to  do  so;    and,  sure  enough,  just  as  we  were 

about  to  despair,  I  saw  I^ieutenant  R making  his 

way  across  the  platform  and  with  him  was  a  neat,  fat, 
httle  China  "boy,"  who  had  been  at  the  hotel  looking  for 
us.  He  was  a  "  fliend"  of  the  cook  we  had  engaged,  who, 
having  decided  that  he  did  not  wish  to  leave  Manila, 
sent  this  substitute.  He  had  no  references,  was  only 
a  "fliend"  to  a  "fliend";  and  we  tried  EngUsh,  French, 


30  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

and  even  "Poco,"  but  without  success.  There  was  only 
time  to  bundle  him  into  the  second-class  car  and  our- 
selves into  the  first;  so  the  small  porters  gathered  up  our 
packages  (for  in  this  hot  country  we  do  not  carry  any- 
thing) and  we  entered  the  train,  which  looked  exactly 
like  a  child's  toy — an  absurd  little  affair.  The  only  dif- 
ference, besides  the  price  of  the  ticket,  between  first- 
and  second-class  was  a  much-soiled  carpet  in  our  car  and 
an  absence  of  FiUpinos  with  chickens  in  their  arms  and 
Chinamen  with  bundles. 

The  conductor,  a  slim  httle  native,  dressed  in  a  uni- 
form of  blue-and-white-striped  cotton,  with  a  black  belt 
and  cap  (the  same  uniform  that  the  Insurrectos  wore 
when  they  were  fighting  the  Americans),  stood  on  the 
platform  and  rang  a  large  dinner-bell,  then  blew  a  jx)- 
liceman's  whistle.  The  natives  were  hustled  into  place, 
with  chickens,  dogs,  and  birds  in  tiny  bamboo  cages; 
mothers,  carrying  infants  in  arms,  smoked  big,  black 
cigars  with  great  vigor  as  they  scrambled  aboard;  and 
twenty  minutes  after  schedule  time  we  were  off,  about 
as  fast  as  a  man  could  comfortably  run.  It  takes  nearly 
five  hours  to  go  fifty  miles. 

We  had  a  fine  view  of  the  country,  with  its  httle 
towns  and  barrios.  The  fields  were  being  tilled  with  the 
help  of  clumsy  carabaos,  sometimes  with  children  astride 
their  backs.  Natives,  pulling  or  planting  rice,  waded  in 
water  up  to  their  waists,  the  little  rice-paddies  looking 
Hke  a  large  green  chess-board,  with  brown  pawns  bending 
over  the  squares. 

The  two  officers  with  me  p)ointed  out  the  places  where 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  31 

they  had  fought  during  the  PhiHppine  insurrection.  At 
sunset  we  crossed  a  battle-ground,  now  a  peaceful  rice- 
field,  over  which  the  sun  poured  a  flood  of  golden  Ught. 
In  the  foreground  was  a  somber  monument,  which  cast 
a  long,  lone  shadow.  It  marks  the  spot  where  General 
Egbert,  U.  S.  A.,  fell  mortally  wounded,  during  an  en- 
gagement with  the  insurgents. 

After  dark  we  had  to  change  cars  at  a  small  town. 
The  low,  one-story  station  was  covered  with  vines  and 
flowers,  and  small  Filipino  boys,  clothed  only  in  thin 
shirts,  cHmbed  nimbly  to  the  car  windows,  offering 
tan-san  water  for  sale.  We  were  pushed  and  pulled  into 
our  next  car,  which  had  seats  along  the  sides,  and  a  long, 
narrow  table  in  the  middle.  I  do  not  know  whether  this 
table  was  to  eat  from  or  to  accommodate  hand-baggage. 
The  road  is  rough,  and  we  were  knocked  about,  my  pre- 
cious Paris  hat  getting  a  new  shape  with  every  bump. 

After  two  hours.  Lieutenant  R pointed  to  a  dim 

light  near  the  sky-line,  which  marked  the  station  where 
we  would  take  a  wagon  for  Camp  Stotsenburg. 

As  there  are  no  hotels  in  the  "bosque"  in  the  Philip- 
pines, incoming  officers  and  their  families  are  entertained 
by  some  family  already  settled  in  the  new  station.  A 
cordial  invitation  had  been  sent  to  us  at  the  transport 
on  our  arrival  at  Manila,  and  our  host  was  at  the  train 
to  meet  us,  with  Army  wagons  and  soldiers  to  help  with 
the  baggage,  as  well  as  a  native  house-boy,  here  called 
muchacho. 

Joining  a  new  regiment  and  a  new  post  is  a  perpetual 
d^but  in  the  life  of  an  Army  woman.     I  realized  that  I 


32  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

knew  none  of  the  ladies  stationed  here,  and  my  thirty 
days'  sea-trip,  together  with  shopping  and  visiting  in 
Manila,  had  told  on  my  strength,  so  it  was  with  a  sinking 
heart  that  I  put  on  fresh  gloves  and  made  ready  to 
step  forth. 

The  moonhght  was  almost  as  bright  as  American  day- 
light. We  could  see  the  large  oval  of  the  parade-ground, 
the  long  row  of  bungalows,  defining  "Officers'  Row,"  on 
the  one  side,  and  on  the  other  the  long,  low  buildings 
which  outlined  the  soldiers'  quarters,  while  directly  be- 
hind the  houses  a  high  and  ragged  range  of  mountains 
gave  a  grim  and  unhomehke  cast  to  the  scene. 

Our  life  in  these  far  Philippines  is  begun.  Perhaps 
we  shall  find  that 

"Earth  has  no  cure  for  the  nerv'^ous  quest 
Like  the  soothing  balm  of  the  tropic  calm 
And  the  land  where  things  can  wait." 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Philippine  Islands, 

March,  1909. 

We  have  moved  into  our  new  home,  and  I  am  trying 
to  make  Uving  in  some  degree  of  comfort  possible.  It  is 
the  hardest  problem  in  home-making  I  have  ever  tried  to 
solve.  Even  living  in  an  Army  tent  the  weeks  we  had 
to  spend  crossing  the  Dakotas  in  the  spring  of  1894  was 
less  difficult.  In  many  ways  I  prefer  the  tent  and  to 
"move  on"  every  day. 

Camp  Stotsenburg  lies  in  the  Pampanga  Valley,  for 


a 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  33 

which  the  mortality  of  the  Spanish  troops  earned  the 
name  of  "The  Spanish  Graveyard."  It  is  fifty  or  sixty 
miles  north  of  Manila.  A  regiment  of  United  States 
volunteers,  encamped  in  this  valley  during  the  insurrec- 
tion, was  ordered  to  displace  the  enemy.  Their  colonel, 
a  young  captain  of  regulars,  named  Stotsenburg,  was 
shot  to  the  heart  as  he  gave  the  command,  "Forward, 
First  Nebraska!"  His  blood  baptized  the  valley,  and 
the  camp,  which  was  built  soon  afterward,  bears  the  name 
of  the  gallant  young  soldier. 

North  of  Camp  Stotsenburg  lie  great  fields  of  sugar- 
cane and  banana  groves;  on  the  south  are  the  rice-  and 
tobacco-fields;  on  the  west  a  range  of  ragged-topped 
mountains,  where  the  wild  men,  called  Negritos,  live;  to 
the  east  Mount  Arayat,  an  extinct  volcano,  which  is  a 
landmark  for  all  this  part  of  Luzon  Island,  rises  abruptly 
from  the  rice-fields.     Our  bungalow  faces  the  volcano. 

The  plans  of  all  Uncle  Sam's  camps  or  posts  are  about 
the  same:  a  square  or  oval  plain  for  a  parade-ground, 
with  band-stand  and  flag-staff  in  the  middle,  officers' 
quarters  along  two  sides,  soldiers'  quarters,  headquarters, 
office,  guard-house,  and  hospital  on  the  other  two  sides. 

The  servants,  houses,  climate,  and  food  are  very 
tropical.  Our  Chinese  cook  knows  no  EngUsh,  the  Fili- 
pino house-boy  ditto,  nor  apparently  any  known  tongue; 
neither  can  the  two  women  who  wash  and  iron  for  us  six 
days  of  the  week  speak  a  word  except  "Buenos  dias, 
Seitora,"  with  a  beautiful  bow,  bending  nearly  to  the  floor, 
which  is  easy  with  their  uncorseted  figures.  I  now  be- 
lieve the   Frenchman  who   declared   that  the   "use  of 


34  -(^n  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

language  is  to  conceal  thought,"  as  language  spoken  in 
this  house  effectually  conceals  anything  and  everything 
thinkable.  We  are  reduced  to  using  the  sign-language 
to  the  servants,  and  I  am  too  pohte  to  tell  the  kind  of 
language  we  feel  like  using  about  them. 

When  we  came  to  select  our  quarters  this  was  the 
only  vacant  abiding-place  in  the  p>ost.  The  Colonel  did 
not  wish  to  rank  anyone  out  if  we  could  be  sheltered 
comfortably.  An  officer's  choice  of  quarters  goes  by 
rank  and  as  he  ranked  second  in  command,  there  would 
be  a  "falling  of  bricks"  along  Officers'  Row,  each  one 
taking  next  best,  and  so  on. 

This  house  makes  me  nearer  heart-sick  than  any  of 
the  places  called  by  courtesy  "houses"  that  our  Uncle 
Sam  has  given  us.  It  is  a  square,  one-story  building  of 
rough  lumber,  built  on  high  wooden  posts,  each  p>ost  set 
loosely  in  a  cement  square  to  sway  with  the  earthquakes 
and  also  to  keep  the  house  cooler  for  the  occupants.  In- 
cidentally, the  white  ants  eat  the  p>osts  and  let  the  house 
down  occasionally.  I  could  easily  run  under  our  shack 
without  stooping,  if  I  dared  brave  the  ants,  lizards,  rats, 
and  house-snakes  that  there  abide,  not  to  mention  cock- 
roaches and  black  spiders  as  large  as  the  saucer  of  an 
after-dinner  coffee-cup.  The  steep  roof  slopes  to  form 
the  p>orch-top  and  from  that  is  hung  native  matting, 
called  suale  (pronounced  "swalley").  This  keeps  the 
porch  shady,  and,  with  the  thick  vines  from  the  porch  to 
the  roof,  it  makes  a  pleasant  out-door  living-room.  I 
like  the  porch;  I  feel  safer  out  there,  where  I  can  see  the 
approach  of  all  humans,  beasts,  and  bugs,  than  in  the 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  35 

dark  house,  with  its  rafters  covered  with  all  sorts  of 
creepy  things.  Many  of  the  porches  are  arranged  and 
furnished  charmingly  with  gay-colored  straw  mats,  low 
willow  chairs,  stunning  Chinese  lanterns,  and  air-plants 
(a  kind  of  orchid)  hanging  from  the  edge  of  the  roof. 
Card-parties  are  given  on  these  verandas,  and  many 
famiUes  dine  there  in  the  evening.  It  is  the  only  com- 
fortable spot  I  can  find  in  our  shack.  If  it  were  only 
screened  and  bug-proof! 

We  have  real  window-glass — ^just  two  rough  frames 
set  with  common  panes,  but  we  are  proud  to  possess 
them.  Some  of  the  quarters  have  Filipino  windows, 
made  of  shell,  with  frames  that  sUde  in  and  out;  they  are 
very  picturesque,  and  give  a  dim  reUgious  Ught  in  the 
rooms.  Most  of  our  windows,  however,  are  simply  huge 
square  holes,  with  heavy  wooden  shutters  that  it  takes 
a  man  to  open  or  shut.  When  it  pKDurs  rain  or  a  typhoon 
is  blowing,  they  must  be  closed,  and  we  grope  in  the  dark 
or  use  lamps. 

We  are  informed  that  our  roof  does  not  leak — another 
of  our  mercies.  The  old-style  roofs  did  leak,  it  seems, 
and  during  the  rainy  season  everybody  was  soaked  most 
of  the  time.  Even  the  beds  could  not  be  kept  dry,  and 
the  poor  babies  were  put  to  sleep  under  umbrellas. 

A  garage  would  seem  a  palace,  compared  to  this  habi- 
tation. Across  the  open  spaces  (by  courtesy  windows) 
are  wired  top  and  bottom  curtains  of  cotton  crepe  or 
Moro  cloth ;  and  Uving  in  these  open-work  bungalows  is, 
as  you  may  imagine,  a  rather  decollete  affair.  We  have 
ceilings  of  matting  woven  of  pale  gre^n  and  yellow  grass 


36  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

or  bamboo  and  two  yards  wide.  Native  workmen  nailed 
it  up  over  the  rafters,  and  it  makes  the  ceiling  look  less 
ghastly,  and  serves  to  hide  the  festive,  long- tailed  rats 
and  possible  house-snakes  which  frisk  above  our  heads. 
An  officer  in  Cavite  had  a  pet  house-snake,  which 
(or  shall  I  say  "whom"?)  he  called  "Eliza."  She  would 
come  down,  run  along  the  wall,  and  coil  herself  happily 
about  a  picture-wire.  When  the  officer  brought  out  his 
bride  and  settled  down  to  housekeeping,  Eliza  sUpped 
his  mind.  One  evening  at  dinner  the  bride  chanced  to 
glance  up  at  the  picture-wire  and  fainted.  EUza  took 
to  the  roof  for  safety,  and  the  bride,  despite  her  hus- 
band's protests  that  his  pet  was  harmless  and  useful  in 
keeping  the  house  free  of  rats,  visited  the  neighbors  until 
the  snake  was  killed. 

They  all  insist  that  there  are  no  house-snakes  in  these 
quarters,  but  I  keep  on  looking  under  and  behind  things. 
The  noises  coming  from  the  matting  overhead  indicate 
inhabitants,  and  the  continual  dropping  of  flakes  of  mat- 
ting is,  to  say  the  least,  suspicious.  Lizards  run  all  over 
and,  falling  to  the  floor,  crack  oflf  their  little  tails.  So 
long  as  they  do  not  drop  down  my  neck  or  into  the  food 
I  can  stand  them.  We  had  to  get  a  cat  to  catch  some  of 
our  choice  collection  of  rats,  cockroaches,  and  spiders. 
Everyone  thinks  we  are  peculiarly  blessed  in  the  posses- 
sion of  window-glass  and  a  kitten.  Just  fancy  coming 
ten  thousand  miles  to  appreciate  window-glass  and  cats! 

We  have  a  dressing-room  and  bed-room,  and  from 
them  a  door  opens  out  on  the  porch  into  the  shower-bath, 
which  is  a  small  room  made  of  grass  matting.     A  pipe 


Bridge  Between  Priest's  House  and  Church,  "The  Street  of  the 
Palace,"  Manila 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  37 

brings  water  through  the  roof,  with  a  crude  sprinkler  on 
the  end,  and  holes  in  the  rough  board  floor  carry  off  the 
water.  I  may  summon  courage  to  try  it,  but  the  sight 
of  lizards  and  spiders  and  occasionally  a  rat  as  big  as 
our  little  no-tailed  cat  prancing  about  overhead,  along 
with  the  possibiUty  of  snakes  coming  up  through  the 
floor,  is  not  encouraging. 

The  floors  are  covered  with  gay-colored  mats  the 
natives  bring  to  sell;  they  conceal  the  ugly  boards,  and 
add  to  the  gaiety  of  the  family.  Our  Chinese  willow 
furniture  is  comfortable,  pretty,  and  suitable. 

The  days  are  hot  and  glaringly  bright,  and  the  nights 
seem  cool  in  comparison,  for  a  wind  blows  from  the 
mountains  about  midnight  that  is  damp,  almost  chilly, 
and  a  thin  blanket  of  musHn  weight  is  comfortable.  Of 
course,  mosquito-nettings  are  in  constant  use  in  this 
bug-infested  place,  though  it  would  be  useless  to  screen 
the  houses,  as  one  could  easily  throw  a  base-ball  through 
the  cracks  and  holes  in  the  walls,  roof,  and  floors.  Our 
bed-nettings  have  sheeting  tacked  on  top  so  we  cannot 
see  the  lizards  when  they  drop  on  the  net. 

Some  of  the  houses  are  prettily  furnished,  as  a  number 
of  the  ladies  were  brave  enough  to  defy  advice  and  bring 
their  nice  home-like  furniture  and  housekeeping  things 
with  them.  Their  handsome  draperies,  silver,  and  cut- 
glass  seem  doubly  comfortable  and  joyous  here  on  the 
other  side  of  the  world. 

The  bungalow  that  the  field  officers  live  in  is  built 
with  one  enormous  square  room,  divided  by  light  wooden 
partitions.     In  the  middle  a  long  space  directly  through 


38  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

the  building  makes  living-  and  dining-room  in  one,  sep- 
arated by  tall  screens  of  Japanese  embroidery  or  bamboo. 
Off  from  this  on  each  side  are  bed-rooms.  Every  sound 
can  be  heard,  of  course,  through  these  thin  walls. 

At  present  we  are  being  entertained  all  around  the 
post  with  dinner-parties  and  dances,  charmingly  given. 
We  dressed  for  our  first  dinner-party  by  the  light  of  a 
lantern,  as  we  were  not  yet  settled.  The  floors  are  oiled 
to  keep  down  the  voracious  ants,  which  eat  everything, 
so  I  held  the  train  of  my  dress  over  my  arm  while  I 
finished  my  toilet. 

We  drove  down  the  Officers'  Line,  and  could  see 
through  the  broad,  open  doorways  the  famiUes  at  dinner. 
"Saints'  Rest,"  a  long,  low  building,  where  the  unmar- 
ried oflScers  Uve,  presented  a  droll  sight;  about  a  table 
sat  six  white-uniformed  young  officers,  and  behind  each 
chair  stood  a  muchacho,  waiting  on  his  own  lieutenant. 

Our  hostess's  quarters  looked  lovely:  a  charming 
bungalow,  with  exquisite  draperies,  ornaments,  and 
household  goods  suitable  for  any  civilized  place.  The 
dinner  was  very  good,  and  the  table  pretty.  A  large 
Chinese  umbrella,  which  serves  the  double  purpose  of  an 
ornamental  ceiUng  and  to  catch  the  Hzards  before  they 
drop  into  the  soup,  was  suspended  above  the  table. 
The  hand-embroidered  linen  tablecloth  from  China,  with 
dragon  and  bamboo  design,  was  wonderfully  fine,  and  in 
the  center  a  Moro  chow-bowl  of  carved  brass,  deep  and 
round,  held  yellow  Chinese  lilies.  Tall  carved  brass 
candlesticks  with  yellow  shades  repeated  the  color. 

We  had  some  native  fruit,   the  wonderful  mango. 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  39 

Iced  mangoes  are  fit  for  kings  and  queens;  and  I  do  not 
wonder  at  the  Filipino  proverb  which  says:  "He  who 
can  eat  no  more  of  the  mango  is  near  to  death." 

The  dinner  was  so  Uke  any  luxuriously  appointed 
meal  in  any  well-bred  home  that  there  is  little  to  tell. 
Only  when  I  glanced  down  at  the  bare  feet  of  the  native 
house-boys  who  waited  deftly  and  quietly,  or  looked  out 
through  the  open  doors  to  the  dark,  irregular  outHne  of 
the  volcano,  could  I  realize  how  far  from  the  United 
States  we  are. 

When  we  reached  home,  only  a  lantern  Ughted  the 
long,  inky-black  porch — a  disheartening  contrast  to  the 
Ughts  and  music  and  laughter  we  had  so  lately  left. 
Think  of  going  to  bed  in  a  dark  old  shack  with  the  cer- 
tainty that  unknown  insects  and  animals  are  near ! 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Phiuppine  Islands, 

— '  March,  1909. 

The  domestic  problem  here  solves  itself  by  the  very 
simple  process  of  addition.  One  has  to  keep  many  serv- 
ants, as  each  does  one  kind  of  work,  and  nothing  can 
induce  the  native  to  depart  from  an  estabUshed  routine. 
All  the  servants  eat  rice,  and  the  wages  are  less  than 
half  those  paid  in  the  States.  The  Chinese  "boy"  cooks 
and  is  "No.  i  Boy."  He  virtually  runs  the  house: 
hires  and  controls  the  FiUpino  house-boys  and  likewise 
the  two  lavandaras,  who  wash  and  iron  six  days  of 
the  week  to  keep  us  spick  and  span.     I  tried  sending  the 


4o  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

clothes  to  a  Filipino  laundress,  with  appalling  results: 
the  native's  irons,  filled  with  hot  charcoal,  burned  and 
tore  so  much  clothing  that  we  have  sent  to  Manila  for 
United  States  irons,  and  reform  work  is  in  progress. 

The  cook  also  buys  the  vegetables,  fruits,  chickens, 
and  eggs,  and  at  the  end  of  the  week  brings  me  his 
account-book.  I  cannot  make  out  what  is  written,  but 
the  amount  is  right  and  tallies  exactly  with  the  gold 
given  to  him  each  Monday.  I  have  to  sign  a  "chit" 
book  for  every  order  given  to  the  Government  market, 
also  for  all  notes  or  invitations  sent  us,  to  show  that  we 
have  received  them. 

Our  Chinese  cook  seemed  possessed  with  an  evil 
cooking-spirit  at  first.  We  could  not  eat  the  queer 
things  he  served,  and  finally  we  rebelled.  I  went  out  to 
the  kitchen,  which  is  at  the  end  of  the  back  porch, 
and  said: 

"You  good  cook.  Ah  Yan?" 

"Oh,  yes;  he  velly  good." 

"No,  you  are  not,"  I  declared  firmly.  "You  velly 
bad  cook.     You  cook  good  now  or  go  pronto!'' 

I  retreated  with  dire  visions  of  Chinese  wrath  in 
store,  but  at  luncheon  we  could  scarcely  credit  our  eyes 
or  mouths.  Such  a  perfectly  cooked  meal!  We  looked 
blankly  at  each  other,  and  the  Colonel  said,  in  deep 
disgust,  "All  borrowed!"  For  you  must  know  the  cooks 
here  borrow  everything  not  nailed  to  the  house.  Dinner, 
however,  was  even  more  delicious;  and  from  that  day 
every  meal  has  been  a  culinary  dream. 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  4! 

The  house  boys  are  numbered  2  and  3,  and  I  am 
"No.  2  Lady,"  as  our  quarters  are  No.  2  on  the  line. 

House-boy  No.  i  is  a  treasure.  At  7  o'clock,  our 
dinner  hour,  he  comes  softly  to  the  porch  comer  from 
which  we  watch  the  sunset  and  announces  something 
which  means,  "Seiiora,  dinner  is  served."  He  looks 
like  a  hired  mourner  at  a  funeral,  dressed  in  crisp,  white 
clothing.  We  go  out  with  all  the  ceremony  attending  a 
state  banquet,  and  Vincente  stands  at  "parade-rest*" 
behind  my  chair.  He  serves  quietly  and  well.  Our 
table  looks  pretty,  with  Oriental  embroideries,  red- 
shaded  candles,  and  a  bowl  of  vivid  red  lilies.  The 
light  from  a  Chinese  lantern  swaying  from  an  arch  of 
woven  bamboo  makes  fitful  shadows  on  the  bare  rafters. 
Lizards  run  down  the  wall  to  catch  the  insects  attracted 
by  the  lights,  great  June-bugs  buzz  noisily  about  and, 
coming  too  near  the  table,  are  deftly  caught  by  the 
"boy,"  who  takes  them  out  to  carry  home  later  for 
"chow."  Sometimes,  to  my  horror,  bats  circle  dizzily 
about  the  table,  and  I  defy  all  dinner  dignity  and  put 
my  napkin  over  my  head. 

They  tell  me  that  I  shall  grow  used  to  all  these 
creeping  things  and  flying  fowl,  but  I  cannot  believe  it; 
and  I  will  admit  that  I  have  cried  enough  tears  to  make 
the  lake  in  "Alice  in  Wonderland"  look  like  a  small  wet 
spot  in  comparison.  The  heat  is  so  great  and  the  in- 
sects so  intolerable !  I  am  up  at  6  o'clock  in  the  morning 
to  write  or  read  in  comfort,  as  by  10  o'clock  it  is  too  hot 
to  do  more  than  lounge  in  a  willow  chair. 


42  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Philippine  Islands, 

March,  1909. 

It  is  5  o'clock  in  the  afternoon;  the  sun  is  low,  and  the 
mountains  throw  long,  cool  shadows.  During  the  day 
only  the  men  are  out  of  doors;  the  ladies  and  children 
stay  in  the  houses  or  on  the  porches  until  the  sun  goes 
down,  and  then  everyone  comes  out  on  the  long  walk  un- 
til dinner-time.  The  ladies  look  pretty  and  cool  in  their 
white  evening-gowns  as  they  walk  slowly  up  and  down 
Officers'  Line.  Some  of  the  young  girls  and  men  play  ten- 
nis; and  on  the  far  parade  a  game  of  polo  is  in  progress. 

At  this  hour  the  children  and  their  nurses  come  ou^ 
for  their  evening  airing.  It  is  a  pretty  flock  of  fair-faced 
Uttle  "Americanos":  babies  in  buggies,  babies  learning 
to  walk,  and  dainty  Httle  lads  and  lassies,  shepherded 
by  nurses  of  every  nationahty.  Down  the  walk  they 
come,  a  veritable  "march  of  nations."  A  Chinese  woman 
heads  the  procession;  she  wears  a  dark  blue  silk  coat, 
loose  as  to  cut,  full  as  to  sleeve,  black  silk  trousers,  white 
socks,  and  heelless  black  slippers  with  pointed  toes;  her 
hair,  smooth  and  shiny,  is  coiled  on  the  nape  of  her  neck 
and  held  in  place  by  two  long  ivory  pins;  jade  ear-drops 
hang  from  her  ears.  Her  loud,  gutteral  talk  makes  me 
think  of  Apache  squaws.  She  waddles  behind  a  baby- 
buggy. 

Japanese  girls,  slim  and  dainty  in  bright-hued  ki- 
monos, follow,  deftly  pattering  along  in  straw  sandals 
and  funny- toed  socks;  they  bow  prettily  in  answer  to 
my  greeting.     Filipino  girls,  dark-eyed  and  dark-skinned, 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  43 

shuffle  by,  keeping  on,  with  an  effort,  their  heelless 
wooden  sUppers  with  toes  of  velvet.  These  native  girls 
have  very  small  and  remarkably  slim  feet.  They  wear 
trained  skirts  of  gaudy  calico,  with  thin,  white  musUn 
chemises  and  stiff  piiia  handkerchiefs  folded  three- 
cornered  about  their  bare  necks,  their  arms  showing  thin 
and  brown  to  the  shoulder  through  the  half -sleeve. 

Six  bright-eyed  Uttle  "undressed  kids"  from  a  native 
school  in  a  barrio  near  by  have  pattered  up  to  the  door, 
with  bamboo  screens  and  wall-hangings  for  sale.  They 
are  carefully  woven  and  crudely  painted.  I  parted  with 
forty  centavos,  and  two  of  the  works  of  art  are  mine.  I 
took  their  pictures,  too,  and  one  little  fellow  timidly 
hung  back  when  the  others  left,  asking  poHtely,  "Please, 
Senora,  see  picture? "  It  took  the  combined  efforts  of  the 
cook,  the  house-boys,  and  my  humble  self  to  make  the 
child  understand  that  pictures  were  not  made  in  a  minute. 

The  sun  is  painting  a  glorious  sunset  from  behind  the 
range  of  volcanoes;  Mount  Arayat  is  an  irregularly  cut 
amethyst,  set  in  clearest  pink.  On  the  back  Une  a  sol- 
dier is  singing : 

"The  sailor-man,  he's  got  a  snap. 
He  gets  the  best  that 's  goin' ; 
At  every  port  where  he  puts  in 
There 's  alius  somethin'  doin' ; 
They  wine  'im  an'  they  dine  'im. 

An'  he's  sure  to  get  his  fill, 
But  all  they  give  the  soldier  is 
A  small 
meat 

pill." 


44  ■<4n  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Last  night  wildcats  from  the  mountains  came  jumping 
through  the  window  -  spaces  and,  tearing  through  the 
rooms  with  dreadful  squeals,  ran  out  and  about  the 
porches.  I  howled  with  fright.  The  Colonel  tried  to 
convince  me  I  was  perfectly  safe  with  a  netting  over 
the  bed.  Netting  as  a  protection  against  wild  animals! 
The  good  quartermaster  has  found  some  wire  netting, 
left  over  from  the  hospital  and  six  Filipino  workmen  are 
putting  it  in  the  window-spaces  in  our  bed-rooms.  I 
hope  to  sleep  more  peacefully  to-night  than  since  we  left 
the  transport,  for  now  nothing  larger  than  a  rat  or  a  snake 
can  crawl  into  our  rooms. 

I  have  awakened  the  poor  Colonel  so  often  with  the 
frightened  whisper,  "What's  that?"  that  now  he  just 
murmurs,  "Lizards,"  in  a  sleepy  voice,  and  never  wakes. 
He  knows  that  I  am  less  afraid  of  lizards  than  of  the  other 
beasts  of  the  field  who  make  their  home  with  us. 


a 

'a 

G, 

d 

S 

u 


a 
o 
o 


Gen.  Carter,  Col.  Shunk,  and  Orderly,  Out  for  Inspection  of  Troops 
Japanese  Hair-dresser  and  Seamstress,  Camp  G,  Philippines 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  45 


IV. 

HOUSEKEEPING  IN  THE  TROPICS. 

An  Army  Camp. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Phiuppine  Isi^ands, 

April,  1909. 

The  Colonel  was  ordered  to  Batangas  on  a  court- 
martial  before  we  were  half  unpacked;  and,  as  I  have 
been  ill  with  the  fever  which  is  prevalent  here,  it  was 

fortunate  that  Mme.  X and  Lucindy  were  staying 

with  us,  p>ending  the  arrival  of  their  household  goods  on 
the  next  transport.  All  their  furniture  and  boxes  were 
left  on  the  pier  in  San  Francisco.  It  is  too  cruel,  for 
there  is  nothing  in  this  country  to  be  had  to  supply  them 
for  housekeeping. 

The  fever  is  broken  now,  and  so  am  I.  Mosquitoes 
have  bitten  me,  however,  and  the  malarial  germ  abides. 

We  had  an  earthquake  last  night.  It  shook  the 
house  from  side  to  side,  broke  open  the  double  doors, 
rolled  bottles  off  the  shelves,  and  frightened  Lucindy 
into  the  belief  that  the  Day  of  Judgment  was  at  hand. 
To-day  we  have  had  a  typhoon  or  cloud-burst — a  sudden 


46  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

tropical  storm  that  seemed  to  threaten  the  end  of  the 
world  by  deluge.  All  the  telephones  were  burned  out — 
ours  went  out  of  commission  with  a  great  snapping  sound ; 
and  nearly  all  of  the  quarters  are  more  or  less  water- 
soaked.  We  were  fortunate;  only  a  little  stream  came 
through  our  vaunted  roof. 

Oh,  yes;  with  fever,  earthquakes,  and  typhoons  we 
are  sufficiently  amused. 

Last  evening  at  dinner  we  were  startled  by  the  sound 
of  bare  feet  padding  across  the  jwrch.  The  Major,  who 
is  visiting  us,  said:  " Don't  be  startled.  It  is  only  some 
Negritos  from  the  mountains  come  to  look  at  us." 

In  the  doorway  stood  three  brown  men,  with  only  a 
gee-string  for  clothing,  holding  huge  bows  and  arrows 
and  gazing  silently  at  us.  We  tried  to  eat  our  soup  un- 
concernedly and  talk  as  calmly  as  we  could.  After  many 
long  minutes,  our  strange  visitors  filed  out  and  faded 
away  in  the  darkness. 

The  Negritos  are  said  to  be  the  first  inhabitants  of  the 
islands,  and  great  numbers  of  them  Hve  right  at  our  back 
doors,  in  the  grim-looking  mountains  behind  the  post. 
They  are  divided  into  tribes,  and  are  the  least  civilized  of 
human  beings — as  near  to  primitive  man  as  any  known 
race.  The  women  perform  all  the  labor,  which  cannot 
be  heavy,  as  they  have  no  houses,  but  sleep  in  trees,  and 
eat  their  food  raw,  tearing  it  with  their  teeth,  which  are 
sharpened  to  points. 

These  savages  bring  the  beautiful  air-plants  into 
camp,  tied  with  bamboo  and  slung  from  their  shoulders, 
to  sell  to  the  Army  people.     These  plants,  of  the  orchid 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  47 

variety,  are  found  in  tall  trees,  and  one  sees  them  hang- 
ing from  the  roofs  of  almost  all  the  porches — a  graceful 
fringe  of  green. 

MANII.A,  Philippine  Islands, 

April,  1909. 

The  court  in  Batangas,  of  which  the  Colonel  is  a 
member,  has  had  to  adjourn  to  meet  in  Manila,  and  so  I 
came  down  here  to  stay  until  my  warrior  can  come  home. 

We  left  the  camp  Easter  morning  on  a  6  o'clock  train, 
and  from  the  moment  of  starting  were  thrilled  with 
delight. 

On  the  cars,  across  the  fields,  and  at  the  stations  FiU- 
pinos  in  Sunday  best  took  the  air,  many  of  them  car- 
rying gamecocks,  the  family  pets,  under  their  arms. 
Out  of  every  car-window  was  thrust  a  head  and  beside 
the  head  a  rooster.  The  cocks  were  of  many  colors,  and 
all  ready  to  "fight  and  bleed  and  die." 

The  owner  of  a  very  fine  bird  took  up  his  stand  un- 
der the  window  of  our  compartment.  "Mucho  grande. 
Bueno.  He  combatte?"  I  said  in  "inebriated"  Spanish, 
and  the  proud  possessor  of  the  cock  smiled  and  bowed 
politely  in  response  to  the  intended  praise,  while  he 
stroked  the  bird  and  critically  examined  the  tiny  silver 
spur  on  its  foot. 

Across  the  vivid  green  rice-fields  came  carts  pulled  by 
carabaos  or  tiny  ponies,  filled  with  native  women  and 
children  on  the  way  to  church.  Their  bright  hoUday 
raiment  made  an  effective  splash  of  color. 


48  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

I  would  not  have  missed  Easter  in  Manila.  There 
are  over  eighty  CathoUc  churches  here,  and  we  were 
quite  an  hour  getting  to  the  hotel,  as  the  reHgious  pro- 
cessions blocked  the  narrow  streets  and  overflowed  into 
the  squares — bands,  many  priests  wearing  fine  robes, 
men  carrying  banners  and  images  of  the  saints. 

We  heard  high  mass  celebrated  at  dawn  in  the  fine 
old  church  of  St.  Augustine,  with  eight  hundred  wor- 
shipers kneeling  on  the  floor  and  over  a  thousand  candles 
wrestling  with  the  shadows  of  that  vast  building.  The 
organ  was  well  played  by  a  native  priest,  and  the  chanting 
and  responses  were  very  impressive. 

The  carvings  in  the  churches  here  are  miracles  of 
delicate  workmanship. 

Manila,  Philippine  Islands, 

April,  1909. 

This  morning  we  drove  to  the  division  hospital  to 
offer  up  a  drop  of  gore  in  the  cause  of  science  and  inci- 
dentally to  find  how  many  malarial  germs  I  am  still  har- 
boring. The  hospital  is  a  row  of  frame  buildings,  with 
white  stone  paths  about  them.  In  front  is  a  large  green 
square,  filled  with  tropical  trees.  An  orderly  led  the 
way  to  a  building  marked  "Tropical  Disease  Board." 
In  the  operating-room  a  young  hospital  corps  man 
pinched  my  unoffending  ear  and  took  a  drop  of  blood, 
while  several  nice  Army  doctors  stood  about,  telling  the 
usual  Oriental  stories. 

We  are  staying  at  the  hotel  I  wrote  of  when  we  landed 


o3 
CO 

< 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  49 

in  Manila.  This  time  our  room  fronts  on  "The  Street 
of  the  Palace."  Across  the  narrow  way  is  a  small  park, 
with  winding  walks  of  stone  and  grass  plots,  but  no 
"Keep  Off"  signs.  A  high  stone  wall  incloses  part  of 
this  park  adjoining  the  long  barracks,  which  used  to 
shelter  Spanish  troops;  now  a  company  of  United  States 
soldiers  is  quartered  there.  In  the  square  and  against 
that  wall  mutinous  Spanish  soldiers  were  once  shot.  It 
looks  peaceful  now,  and  far  removed  from  the  thought  of 
death,  in  its  mellow  old  colorings,  the  wall  overrun  with 
a  luxurious  vine,  spangled  with  great  crimson  flowers.  A 
United  States  infantry  band  plays  in  the  park  every 
evening,  and  "taps"  is  sounded  at  11  o'clock  at  night. 
"Put  Out  the  Light"  comes  softly  across  the  way  as 
I  write. 

The  bridges  which  cross  the  Pasig  should  have  a  book 
written  about  them,  they  are  so  beautiful.  The  Bridge 
of  Spain  is  the  most  interesting.  Away  back  in  1600  it 
was  a  pontoon  bridge,  and  in  1630  the  "new"  bridge 
was  built  of  stone.  The  Americans  have  made  it  wide 
enough  to  allow  the  trolley  line  to  cross  and  to  accom- 
modate horse  and  foot  traffic. 

We  love  to  stand  on  this  bridge  and  watch  the  boats, 
big  and  little,  anchored  in  the  river.  Nearly  fifteen  hun- 
dred people  live  in  these  curious  crafts,  called  cascos  and 
lorchas.  In  one  of  the  cascos  I  saw  a  fire  in  an  open  p>ot, 
a  woman  washing  rice,  a  rooster,  and  many  children. 
Why  the  whole  outfit  did  not  bum  up  I  do  not  know. 

We  were  ready  to  go  forth  and  dine  last  night  when, 
from  a  cloudless  sky,  came  rain  in  sheets  and  torrents. 


50  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

The  streets  ran  rivers,  and  water  poured  through  open 
doorways  into  the  court  of  the  hotel.  Six  FiUpino  "bell- 
hops" unfastened  and  shut  the  great  double  doors,  and 
we  sat  on  chairs,  with  our  feet  on  the  rounds  of  other 
chairs,  in  an  effort  to  preserve  otu-  dinner-gowns  and 
sUppers. 

Manila  is  called  "Oriental  Venice,"  with  good  reason, 
for  it  is  but  Uttle  above  the  sea-level;  and  only  a  few 
years  ago  in  a  big  flood  people  were  carried  in  bancas 
to  and  fro  in  the  streets,  which  had  become  veritable 
canals. 

We  reached  our  dinner-party  finally  by  making  a 
sortie  for  a  covered  wagon,  which,  although  all  the  cur- 
tains were  down,  leaked  Uke  a  sieve.  Needless  to  say, 
we  were  "demned,  damp,  unpleasant  bodies,"  and  our 
fresh  frills  somewhat  crestfallen. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Philippine  Islands, 

April,  1909. 

We  have  just  returned  from  a  few  days'  visit  in  Ma- 
nila, and  I  look  with  a  more  favorable  eye  up)on  our 
shack,  now  that  we  are  home  from  a  stay  in  the  best  hotel 
in  that  metropolis;  a  complication  of  smells,  sticky  heat, 
and  bad  food  not  being  to  my  hking. 

The  birds  here  are  insect-feeders,  and  help  us  to  live 
by  destroying  some  of  the  myriad  creeping,  crawling,  and 
flying  pests  which  annoy  us.  They  have  shrill  notes,  but 
only  one  kind  sings;  the  natives  call  it  "the  sad  bird." 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  51 

It  sounds  like  a  robin  in  early  spring  at  home,  and  brings 
me  the  scent  of  apple  blossoms.  Another  bird,  of  which 
I  do  not  know  the  name,  is  jet  black  in  color,  except  the 
wings,  which  are  white  with  a  tiny  edge  of  black.  They 
are  fighters,  and  cling  to  the  air-plants,  quarreling  con- 
stantly and  emitting  loud  cries. 

The  Filipino  boys  are  cruel  to  birds.  They  have  a 
kind  of  air-gun,  a  hollow  bamboo  tube,  through  which 
they  blow  small  stones  and  bring  down  the  birds  every 
time. 

I  have  just  bought  a  violin  made  of  bamboo  and  tied 
with  a  bright  red  string.  A  small  Filipino  boy  played 
upon  it  nicely,  picking  out  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner" 
for  my  edification.  He  sold  me  the  instrument  for 
seventy-five  cents. 

The  Filipinos  copy  our  worst  national  traits  and 
habits,  it  seems.  There  is  an  imitation  strike  on  our  toy 
railroad,  and  our  supplies  and  mail  are  delayed.  When 
the  mail  does  come,  soldiers  guard  the  cars,  "allee  samee 
Americanos."     It  is  too  provoking. 

We  long  for  a  real  newspaper.  All  we  can  get  is  a 
Manila  paper,  which  is  flat,  stale,  and  profitable  only  to 
its  owners. 

The  usual  cholera  scare  is  with  us.  Most  of  the 
things  we  eat  and  drink  are  proscribed,  and  nothing  is 
allowed  to  come  in  from  the  kitchen  without  first  seeing 
the  fire.  On  account  of  cholera,  typhoid  fever,  and  the 
pernicious  malaria,  which,  like  the  poor,  is  always  with 
us,  this  camp  is  a  marvel  of  cleanliness.  An  officer  makes 
the  rounds  of  the  entire  reservation  on  horseback  every 


52  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

morning  inspecting.  Not  a  scrap  of  paper  or  a  cigarette- 
end  may  be  thrown  about.  Every  yard,  back  and  front, 
is  literally  scrubbed  with  hose  and  broom,  and  coal  oil 
is  poured  on  top  of  all  pools  of  water  and  on  the  fire- 
buckets,  which  hang  in  a  row  on  the  back  porch.  I^arge 
covered  wagons  remove  all  refuse  to  be  burned  and  carry 
away  even  the  dish-water. 

When  the  cholera  is  less,  we  can  have  fresh  vegetables 
and  fruit  again,  which  we  buy  from  sweet-voiced  native 
women,  who  come  to  our  back  door,  balancing  baskets  of 
finely  woven  grass  upon  their  heads.  These  little  brown 
sisters  look  gentle  and  clean,  and  I  must  say  I  like  them. 

Bananas,  big  and  little,  flourish  here  and  are  sold  by 
the  treeful.  We  buy  from  the  women  a  basket  at  a  time. 
(Did  I  tell  you  of  the  wise  old  priest  who  said,  "Bananas 
and  saints  do  not  grow  together"?)  Papaya,  the  pepsin 
fruit,  is  a  tasteless  pink  melon,  but  we  Uke  it  for  breakfast, 
iced  and  served  with  lemon  and  red  pepper.  The  chico 
is  dark  brown  and  tough.  It  resembles  a  russet  apple, 
and  tastes  as  though  baked  dry  in  sugar.  The  native 
grapefruit,  called  pomelo,  is  large,  green  in  color,  with  a 
thick  skin  and  a  bitter,  acid  taste.  It  is  used  in  salads, 
and  with  American  apples  is  very  good.  We  use  limes 
when  the  American  lemons  give  out. 

Mangoes  are  just  coming  into  the  market  or,  to  be 
exact,  into  the  baskets  of  the  women.  They  are  the 
nearest  to  perfection  of  any  of  the  native  fruits.  The 
flavor  makes  one  think  of  delicious  perfumes,  music,  and 
moonlight  nights.  They  are  pear-shaped,  pink  and 
golden  in  color,  with  a  large,  provoking  seed,  and  are 


Quarters  No.  2,  Camp  G,  Philippines 
Silversmith's  House,  Nipa  Village,  near  Camp,  Philippines 


Rear  of  Quarters;  Cook,  House  Boy,  and  Washerwoman 
Our  Chicken  Man  Selling  Goods  from  Native  Baskets 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  53 

used  in  salads  and  ices.  They  make  a  very  fine  wine 
also.  The  mango-tree  is  tall  and  beautiful,  with  lancet- 
shaped  leaves. 

Chickens  and  eggs  are  plentiful,  but  small  in  size. 
An  old  man  brings  the  fowls  ahve  in  a  curious  basket, 
which  looks  as  though  it  had  been  woven  over  the  chicken, 
like  King  Alfred's  apple-dumpUng.  How  they  get  them 
in  or  out  I  do  not  know. 

All  beef,  pork,  mutton,  turkeys,  and  groceries  are 
shipped  from  home  by  the  Government  transports  once 
a  month.  Butter,  cream,  and  milk  come  in  tin  cans  from 
AustraHa.  We  sometimes  use  native  coffee — it  is  not 
good;  but  the  men  consider  the  native  cigars  excellent. 
Most  of  our  food  comes  from  home,  however,  and  we  are 
finding  this  a  good  place  to  "bant." 

From  our  porch  we  can  see  a  deep  notch  in  the  far 
range  of  blue  mountains,  through  which  in  insurrection 
days  our  troops  marched  to  the  east  coast  of  Luzon  to 
stop  the  bringing  in  of  munitions  of  war  from  China. 
The  Colonel  was  the  first  to  take  troops  there,  and  was 
exiled  nearly  a  year  with  his  command.  Recently  a  lieu- 
tenant was  sent  over  there  with  some  soldiers  from  this 
camp  to  make  maps,  and  was  reported  murdered  by 
head-hunters;  but,  happily,  a  company  of  soldiers  sent 
to  the  rescue  found  the  party  aUve  and  unhurt. 

From  time  to  time  we  hear  disquieting  rumors  from 
Jolo,  where  troops  are  garrisoned.  It  is  a  walled  city, 
with  gates  that  lock  at  night.  Every  few  weeks  a  sen- 
tinel is  boloed,  so  now  two  patrol  together,  and  an  armed 


54  ^w  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

guard  escorts  American  women  when  they  wish  to  drive 
outside  the  walls. 

It  is  told  that  a  short  time  ago  two  natives  stopped 
at  the  porch  of  an  Army  officer  in  Jolo.  They  carried 
bags  on  their  shoulders,  and  the  young  daughter  of  the 
house,  thinking  them  peddlers,  signed  to  them  to  op>en 
the  sacks.  Instead  of  the  pretty  stuffs  and  ornaments 
she  expected,  out  rolled  two  horrible  heads  of  tribal 
enemies. 

We  have  had  war  to  the  knife  in  the  kitchen,  and  have 
had  to  choose  between  the  cook  and  one  of  the  house- 
boys.  The  Colonel  chose  the  cook.  The  boy  and  I 
parted  with  mutual  regret.  He  clumped  in  to  get  his 
"paper"  (recommendation)  in  a  pair  of  hideous  American 
yellow  shoes  several  sizes  too  small,  his  pride  in  them 
offset  only  by  the  evident  agony  of  his  erstwhile  bare 
feet.  The  thought  of  the  noise  of  those  shoes  on  our  loose 
board  floors  made  the  parting  less  sorrowful  on  our  side. 

The  new  boy,  sent  by  some  of  the  servants  on  "Sud's 
Row,"  appeared  at  breakfast.  He  had  decorated  the 
table  with  large,  shiny,  green  leaves  and  white  star- 
flowers,  and  was  dressed  to  match  in  a  pale-green  hnen 
camisa  and  white  cotton  trousers,  tied  in  at  the  ankles. 
His  feet  were  bare.  As  poetic  as  his  costume  is  his  name, 
Pedro  Adrillian.  At  dinner  he  serves  in  full  dress — 
white  coat  and  trousers,  with  straw  sandals.  There  are 
so  many  dialects  spoken  in  these  islands  that  it  is  difficult 
to  make  one's  self  understood  by  the  natives.  My 
neighbor  has  a  boy  who  is  called  an  "interpreter,"  of 
whose  English  she  is  very  proud.     She  was  spending  the 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  55 

morning  with  me  recently,  and,  needing  her  glasses,  she 
called  her  boy  and  directed  him  to  "get  glasses." 

"Now,"  she  said,  vaingloriously,  "you  will  see  how 
well  he  understands  EngHsh." 

We  tried  not  to  laugh  when  we  saw  the  interpreter 
crossing  the  lawn,  bending  under  the  weight  of  a  large 
plate-glass  mirror,  taken  from  a  dressing-table. 

The  same  boy  was  once  told  at  dinner  to  take  a  dish 
of  food  out  and  Jieat  it.  After  a  delay  he  appeared,  and 
said  meekly,  "I  have  eat  it,  Senora." 

Captain  and  Mrs.  G have  been  giving  a  dinner- 
party. We  assembled  on  the  porch,  when  dinner  was 
announced,  and  took  up  the  "Une  of  march"  for  the 
dining-room,  preceded  by  two  large  bats,  which  sailed 
dizzily  about  the  table.  Our  hostess  has  a  well-known 
aversion  for  bats,  and,  gathering  the  train  of  her  thin 
dress  over  her  head,  declared  hastily  that  she  did  not 
wish  any  dinner;  neither  did  the  other  ladies,  who  cov- 
ered their  heads  with  lace  scarfs  and  handkerchiefs,  and 
from  the  doorway  watched  a  comical  scene.  Our  host  is 
not  only  tall,  but  exceedingly  stout.  He  stood,  hke  Casey 
at  the  bat  (an  apt  simile,  you  will  agree),  with  broom 
held  aloft,  while  the  Colonel  valiantly  flourished  an  um- 
brella to  the  great  danger  of  the  best  lamp.  Two  sHm, 
young  Ueutenants  just  from  West  Point  danced  about, 

executing  high  jumps,  while  Major  G ,  making  passes 

with  a  saber,  bellowed  lustily :  "  Look  out !  I  have  him ! " 
in  a  voice  of  thunder.  The  team-work  of  our  men  is  not 
good,  I  fear. 

The  bats  presently  retreated  to  the  rafters,  and  we 


56  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

plucked  up  courage  to  go  out  to  dinner,  casting  many 
fearful  glances  to  the  ceiling.  But  we  were  not  stampeded 
again. 

We  have  dined,  also,  with  our  Kentucky  friends — 

almost  a  real,  old-time  Southern  dinner.     Mme.  X 

met  us  at  the  door  with  a  kiss  of  welcome,  and  Lucindy, 
resplendent  in  a  checked  gingham  dress,  with  a  very  large 
white  apron  and  a  ruffled  cap,  came  in  to  say,  "Howdy?" 
A  small  FiUpino  boy,  dressed  in  a  khaki  suit,  to  his  great 
joy  and  glory,  waited  at  table. 

As  each  dish  was  served  and  praised,  Mme.  X 

smiled  placidly,  and  when  we  reached  the  "  bursting-of- 
buttons"  stage,  Lucindy  was  called  in  to  give  minute 
directions  for  making  deUcious  corn-pudding,  beaten 
biscuit,  and  for  frying  chicken.  She  confided  to  us,  with 
a  roll  of  her  black  eyes,  "Dis  yeah  no  furrin,  heathen 
dinnah;  dis  jes  plain  Christian  victuals." 

Just  before  we  started  for  Mme.  X 's  bungalow  a 

shower  descended  upon  us,  with  thunder  and  Hghtning. 
The  wind  rocked  the  house  and  tore  down  the  Filipino 
mats  from  the  walls.  The  candles  went  out,  the  porch 
screens  flew  into  the  yard,  and  the  boys  ran  about  fas- 
tening the  heavy  shutters  and  pulling  the  bars  across 
the  doors. 

At  8  o'clock  the  storm  lessened  a  Uttle,  and  we  went 
down  the  Une  in  the  hospital  ambulance.  At  1 1  o'clock 
we  came  home,  walking,  like  the  IsraeUtes  of  old,  dry-shod, 
and  in  the  Ught  of  a  glorious  full  moon,  as  is  the  way  with 
these  "temperamental"  tropic  storms.     Not  a  trace  of 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  57 

the  tempest  remained,  except  tubs  in  the  Uving-room, 
half -full  of  water  from  our  "leakless"  roof. 

Our  little  no-tail  cat  is  growing  like  Jonah's  gourd, 
and  is  company  for  us.  He  catches  bugs  and  mice,  and 
is  a  terror  to  lizards  and  spiders.  A  tail,  it  seems,  is  quite 
an  unnecessary  adornment. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 

I,UZON,  PhIUPPINE  ISlrANDS, 

May,  1909. 

This  morning  we  drove  a  mile  through  the  tall  jungle- 
grass,  called  cogon,  which  is  higher  than  the  top  of  our 
covered  wagon,  to  find  a  native  who  does  pretty  work  in 
silver.  In  a  barrio  of  perhaps  fifty  nipa  shacks,  which 
bordered  its  one  narrow  street,  we  found  the  place — a 
two-story  house,  with  shop  below  and  dwelUng  above, 
the  latter  reached  by  a  ladder  from  the  ground.  Dogs, 
pigs,  chickens,  and  children  rolled  about  the  hard  dirt 
floor  of  the  shop.  The  silversmith,  a  very  fat  man 
(most  Filipinos  are  thin  and  small),  came  out  to  the 
wagon,  holding  up  for  our  inspection  a  finely  carved 
narawood  tea-tray,  with  silver  grapes  and  leaves  cun- 
ningly laid  on.  He  brought  an  old  Gorham  catalogue 
for  us  to  select  the  kind  of  article  we  wished  made  from 
the  silver  dollars  we  gave  him.     I  chose  a  carved  bracelet. 

On  the  way  home  a  wild  deer  ran  in  front  of  the  mules 
and  frightened  them  so  that  they  jumped  into  the  jungle- 
grass  and  almost  upset  us.  We  wished  for  a  gun. 
Hunters  find  many  kinds  of  game  here.     There  are  hun- 


58  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

dreds  of  large,  gray,  thick-bodied  deer,  and  in  this  part 
of  I/Uzon  there  are  also  the  Japanese  and  tiny  mouse-deer. 
Wild  boar,  pigeons  and  jungle-fowl,  (many  kinds  as  large 
as  chickens)  abound,  etc,  also  ducks,  wild  geese,  wild- 
cats, boa-constrictors,  and  crocodiles,  to  say  nothing  of 
humans,  who  are  the  game  which  the  head-hunters  are 
stalking  just  now. 

In  the  mountains  back  of  the  camp  are  villages  of 
wild  men.  Two  Americans  lately  visited  one  of  them, 
a  settlement  of  over  two  hundred  Negritos.  With  a 
guide,  a  friendly  native,  they  climbed  the  highest  peak, 
which  we  see  from  here,  going  up  afoot,  carrying  their 
food  on  their  backs.  The  mountains  are  green  to  the 
summits,  and  they  said  it  looked  Uke  Eden  in  the  valley 
below,  with  its  thousands  of  feathery-topped  palms  and 
bamboo-trees.  It  took  the  party  several  days  to  reach  the 
top,  but  their  trouble  was  repaid,  for  they  found  out 
much  that  is  of  interest  about  the  customs  of  the  little 
wild  people. 

The  Americans  visited  the  villages  and  found  forty 
or  fifty  Negritos  living  in  each  community.  They 
sleep  in  tall  trees,  climbing  by  their  bare  feet  up  the 
notched  tree- trunks ;  and  in  some  cases  ladders  of  bamboo 
were  stretched  from  tree  to  tree.  They  do  not  cook 
their  food,  but  eat  the  flesh  of  animals  and  fishes  raw, 
tearing  it  with  their  sharpened  teeth.  No  plantings  of 
rice  were  found,  and  it  was  evident  that  wild  fruits  and 
game  constituted  the  food  supply. 

The  Negritos  are  short  in  stature,  dark,  and  with  heavy 
matted  hair.     They  scar  their  bodies  with  curious  marks 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  59 

The  men  wear  only  a  loin-cloth,  and  carry  large  bows  and 
arrows,  which  they  use  with  skill.  The  arrow-heads  are 
poisoned,  and  a  scratch  or  wound  would  be  a  serious 
thing.  The  women  wear  a  piece  of  cloth  tied  about  the 
waist  and  falling  to  the  knees.  They  are  usually  adorned 
with  necklaces  of  beads,  shells,  or  teeth,  and  sometimes 
anklets  of  straw. 

These  savages  are  head-hunters,  and  the  United 
States  is  having  difficulty  in  pyersuading  them  that  a 
man's  head  is  his  personal  property  and  that  he  is  not 
lightly  to  be  deprived  of  it.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  the 
Negritos  are  not  appreciative  of  the  benefit  they  enjoy 
from  the  presence  of  an  armed  force,  which  demands 
their  food,  breaks  up  their  customs,  and  makes  them  live 
in  houses  and  wear  clothes. 

The  party  of  Americans  stayed  all  night — it  was  full 
moon — and  were  fortunate  enough  to  witness  a  sacred 
dance.  When  the  wild  people  were  about  to  eat,  the 
first  piece  of  meat  was  thrown  into  the  air,  and  the 
words  which  the  circle  of  feeders  shouted  as  the  rite  was 
performed  meant,  according  to  the  interpreter,  "This  is 
to  thee."     It  was  an  offering  to  a  spirit  or  a  god. 

The  head-hunters  hold  that  the  spirits  of  the  departed 
cannot  be  happy  alone,  so  when  one  of  their  number  dies 
his  friends  are  on  the  lookout  for  a  companion  to  send 
along  to  the  shades  with  the  spirit  to  keep  him  company. 
I  should  think  this  might  have  a  chilHng  effect  on  would-be 
visitors  to  the  Negritos. 

As  I  write  a  band  of  these  wild  men  is  passing  the 
house,  walking  in  single  file,  led  by  the  chief  of  the  clan. 


6o  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

who  wears  a  brilliant  scarlet  shirt,  which  comprises  his 
entire  costume.  A  Httle  boy  brings  up  the  rear  of  the 
procession,  clad  in  a  pair  of  bright  green  trousers.  The 
law  of  compensation  holds  good,  it  seems — to  him  with 
shirt,  no  trousers;  to  the  trouserless,  a  shirt.  The  satin- 
brown  skins,  combined  with  the  scarlet  and  green  of  the 
garments,  is  a  deUghtful  color-scheme.  To  add  the  note 
of  color  to  complete  the  picture,  I  threw  an  orange  to  the 
boy;  he  caught  it  in  his  teeth. 

Clothes  are  not  popular  in  this  country.  Spring  fash- 
ions have  no  place  in  our  thoughts,  and  there  is  no  buying 
of  Baster  hats  to  annoy  us.  A  Japanese  woman  makes 
shirtwaists  and  fine  undergarments  and  embroiders  beau- 
tifully, which  is  all-sufficient.  We  are  about  two  years 
behind  the  styles,  of  course;  but  as  everybody  is  "in  the 
same  boat,"  nobody  cares. 

We  are  also  far  behind  on  books,  music,  and  the 
theaters,  but  up  on  volcanoes  (there  are  twenty  active 
in  these  islands  and  more  than  that  inactive),  and  on  wild 
men,  snakes,  earthquakes,  typhoons,  sunsets  and  moon- 
light, bright  flowers  and  fruits,  and  patient,  low-voiced, 
soft-footed  servants. 

The  FiHpino  mayor  of  a  near-by  town  has  come  to  the 
house  to  go  with  the  commanding  officer  to  inspect  his 
village.  The  United  States  Government  has  to  keep  an 
eye  on  sanitary  conditions  in  all  the  towns  adjoining  the 
camp  in  order  to  protect  soldiers  from  disease.  The 
lovely  banana  grove  that  added  much  to  our  landscape 
is  being  cut  down,  as  it  breeds  mosquitoes  by  the  million. 
Too  bad! 


Detail  of  Porches  on  Quarters,  Showing  Native  Shell  Windows 


c3 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  6i 

Talk  of  the  severity  of  the  Roman  fathers!  Com- 
pared with  a  miUtary  husband,  they  were  as  mild  as 
milk.  Mine  has  sent  to  himself  (which  means  me)  a  re- 
port that  the  slop-cans  in  the  rear  of  our  quarters  were 
left  uncovered  one  morning.  The  natives  are  in  terror 
of  germs,  which  they  call  "Americana  devils."  Their 
former  ignorance  must  have  been  bliss. 

The  Filipinos  are  not  dirty  p)eople — quite  the  con- 
trary; they  are  the  most  bathed,  washed,  and  ironed 
creatures  you  can  imagine,  and  sally  forth  from  wretched- 
looking  little  nipa  huts  spick  and  span  and  immaculately 
clean.  The  children  are  yellow- white  and  have  abnorm- 
ally large  stomachs.  They  die  by  hundreds,  a  generous 
diet  of  crabs,  green  bananas,  and  sugar  cakes  not  being 
conducive  to  long  life. 

One  can  spend  hours  trying  to  explain  to  native 
servants  the  problems  of  the  daily  routine  in  the  house- 
hold, which  is  complicated,  compared  with  their  own 
simple  life.  A  wall  of  bamboo,  twelve  by  twelve  feet,  a 
steeply  pointed  roof  of  poles  and  palm  leaves,  a  floor  of 
bamboo  poles  set  on  high  wooden  posts;  one  room,  with 
a  box  of  earth  at  one  end,  a  fire  in  the  middle,  some  brown 
pottery  cooking  utensils,  grass  mats  on  the  floor  to  sleep 
on — such  is  the  Filipino's  "home,  sweet  home."  To  the 
natives,  moving  is  almost  as  simple  as  it  must  have  been 
in  the  Garden  of  Eden — a  mere  matter  of  gathering  up 
the  p>ots  and  pans  and  whistling  to  the  dogs.  The  chil- 
dren carry  the  mats,  the  beloved  carabao  is  driven  to  the 
new  home — and  it  is  done. 


62  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Phh^ippine  Islands, 

May,  1909. 

In  the  afternoon  everybody  and  everything  takes  the 
siesta.  It  is  the  quietest  hour  of  the  twenty-foixr.  Our 
servants  cover  over  the  "tiffin"  dishes  (shades  of  New 
England  housekeeping!),  desert  the  kitchen,  and  take  a 
nap.  In  Manila  the  shops  might  just  as  well  close 
during  the  hour  that  the  native  clerks  reserve  for  the 
siesta,  for  no  business  can  be  done. 

The  FiHpino  looks  with  awe  upon  a  sleeping  person. 
The  natives  beHeve  that  the  spirit  leaves  the  body  during 
sleep,  and  that  if  one  were  suddenly  awakened,  the  soul 
might  not  return.  Carpenters  were  sent  to  do  some 
work  in  the  house  one  day,  and  the  Colonel,  who  had 
been  taking  his  siesta,  not  hearing  the  expected  ham- 
mering, went  out  to  the  porch,  where  he  found  the  car- 
penters sitting  idle.  One  said  in  Spanish :  "Please,  may 
we  work  now?  Muchacho  says,  'Make  no  noise;  the 
Senor  sleeps.' " 

Two  Filipino  women  came  to  see  me  to-day.  They 
bowed  repeatedly,  and  made  polite  inquiries  after  the 
Senora's  health.  Presently  they  made  me  understand 
that  they  had  called  to  see  my  "grand  house."  They 
inspected  our  housekeeping  arrangements  with  open- 
mouthed  admiration,  but  the  American  cook-stove 
seemed  to  please  them  best  of  all.  They  timidly  begged 
me  to  "make  music"  upon  it,  thinking  it  a  piano,  I 
suppose. 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  63 

The  servants  are  constantly  leaving  notes  for  us  to 
find;  they  will  not  ask  for  anything  in  words.  If  they 
cannot  write  English,  they  find  some  Filipino  who  can. 
Here  is  a  specimen  note  left  by  a  former  house-boy,  who 
married  and  now  wishes  to  take  in  washing  from  the  sol- 
diers. It  is  the  best  in  writing  and  spelling  we  have  ever 
had.     I  send  it  just  as  it  is  written: 

Honorable  colonel 

Hon  sir  we  rejoice  if  our  letter  reach  you  in  the  same  condi- 
tion as  before  now  sir  as  are  in  wait  under  your  protection  we 
wish  to  beg  a  favor  of  taking  mucho  contract  about  laundry 
we  desire  one  troop  to  have  of  its  cloths  the  price,  honorable 
sir  and  colonel  2  pesos  of  the  one  soledad  we  expect  of  your 
kindness  although  we  are  not  here  by  the  grace  of  god  to  get  of 
this  work  for  which  with  thanks, 

your  obedient  servant 

PEDRO  CATAP 

Our  new  house-boy  is  very  intelligent,  but  if  I  ask  for 
a  glass,  he  brings  in  a  fire-bucket;  or  for  a  chair,  he  pulls 
in  the  laundress,  much  to  her  amazement  and  mine. 
When  once  he  gets  a  thing  done  in  the  right  way,  he  never 
forgets,  however.     He  has  the  memory  of  a  phonograph. 

The  laundresses  are  sitting  out  on  the  porch,  pounding 
the  clothes  with  heavy  sticks.  I  make  them  boil  the 
clothes  now  on  the  American  stove,  which  they  consider 
most  unnecessary  and  cruel.  They  have  to  use  starch, 
too,  instead  of  rice-water,  which  makes  the  clothing  like 
stiff  paper  and  unfit  to  wear;  and  it  is  another  grievance 
that  they  have  to  put  starch  in  the  clothes  and  not  eat  it ! 
They  iron  on  a  blanket  spread  on  the  floor,  and  as  they 


64  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

smoke  long  cigars  during  the  process,  the  clothing  is  apt 
to  be  burned  and  scorched.  They  do  up  the  white  and 
khaki  uniforms  most  excellently,  however. 

Of  all  the  nations  represented  in  the  camp,  Josi,  the 
Japanese  sewing- woman,  is  the  most  pleasing.  Her  work 
is  quietly  and  perfectly  done,  with  a  smiling  face  and 
gentle  manner.  She  is  a  picture  of  comfort  in  her  light 
cotton  crepe  kimono  and  straw  slippers.  When  I  don  a 
kimono,  she  laughs  and  pats  the  sash  into  place,  saying, 
"Madame,  so!"  discreetly  looking  away  from  my  at- 
tempts to  keep  on  straw  sandals. 

"Where  are  you  from,  Josi?"  I  ask  her. 

"Oh!  five  year  here,  twelve  year  Honolulu,"  she 
answers.     "Bom  in  Japan,  yes." 

The  whole  earth  is  swimming  in  heat-waves,  across 
the  valley  and  to  the  top  of  the  volcano  fifteen  miles 
away.  Even  the  green  rice-paddies  look  blistered. 
Sweeping  the  floor  with  wet  tea-leaves,  making  a  faint 
breeze,  seems  cool.  The  gloom  of  the  black-raftered 
room  is  grateful  on  this  day  of  burning  sunshine. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Philippine  Islands, 

May,  1909. 
Mrs.  D and  I  were  awaiting  our  husbands'  re- 
turn from  Manila  last  night,  and  I  dined  with  her.  It 
had  been  a  very  hot  day,  and  at  8  o'clock,  when  we  sat 
down  to  dinner,  it  was  ominously  still  and  breathless; 
then  in  a  moment  a  typhoon  was  upon  us.     A  great  blast 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  65 

of  wind  smote  the  house  with  a  roar.  It  pulled  down 
the  suale  screens  outside,  and  the  matting  over  the  rafters 
followed  suit.  A  crash  of  breaking  flower-pots  and 
earthen  jars  on  the  porch  reached  our  ears,  but  we  were 
having  "troubles  of  our  own"  inside  the  house.  The  tall 
screens  fell  flat,  and  everything  not  fastened  took  to  itself 
wings  and  flew  through  space.  Out  went  the  candles  on 
the  table  and  down  came  the  rain;  great  swishes  and 
rushes  of  water — ^water  all  over  the  table,  and  a  stream 
pouring  down  my  neck. 

My  hostess,  "mistress  of  herself,  though  the  heavens 
fall,"  remarked  quietly:  "The  rain  is  coming  through 
the  big  ventilator  in  the  roof,"  and  the  servants  scurried 
to  close  it  and  the  heavy  shutters.  We  pushed  the  table 
into  a  comer,  and  the  house-boy  served  dinner,  from  the 
soup  to  the  ice,  as  calmly  as  though  typhoons  were  his 
specialty,  while  the  cook  moved  about,  taking  up  rugs 
and  pulling  down  the  handsome  Chinese  draperies.  We 
finished  our  dinner  as  bravely  as  we  could,  although  the 
telephone  wire  burned  out  with  a  loud  snapping  sound, 
and  we  had  to  shriek  to  make  ourselves  heard  above  the 
roar  of  the  thunder  and  the  drumming  of  the  rain  on  the 
tin  roof.     The  house  creaked  and  swayed  fearsomely. 

After  dinner  we  lifted  our  wet  skirts,  and,  stepping 
over  puddles,  settled  ourselves  in  long  Chinese  chairs, 
with  our  feet  tucked  up  in  them,  and  drank  coffee  while 
we  watched  the  long-tailed  rats  hurrying  along  the  rafters 
over  our  heads.  In  storms  the  rats  always  come  down 
as  near  the  floor  as  they  dare. 

Near  the  lantern  that  did  not  go  out  big,  fat  "chow" 


66  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

bugs  buzzed  blunderingly  and  fell  into  our  laps.  These 
loathsome  bugs  are  sold  in  the  markets  and  the  natives 
eat  them.     They  consider  them  a  rare  treat. 

We  listened  anxiously,  but  in  vain,  for  a  whistle  or 
roll  of  wheels  to  announce  the  home-coming  of  our  war- 
riors. A  terrific  crash  from  the  end  of  the  camp  added 
terror  to  our  already  frightened  hearts.  It  was  then 
near  midnight,  and  we  opened  the  door  a  crack.  The 
banana-trees  writhed,  the  rain  hissed  from  the  spouts  on 
the  roof,  the  Hghts  from  the  barracks  flared  through  the 
fire-trees.     It  was  a  series  of  cloud-bursts. 

The  sound  of  voices  outside  was  an  unspeakable  re- 
lief. The  Doctor  had  come  to  see  if  we  were  afraid  (of 
course  we  said,  "No!"),  and  he  had  met  the  two  hus- 
bands walking  home  from  the  station.  Their  wagon  had 
stuck  in  a  ditch,  where  the  horses  had  jumped  in  fright 
at  the  storm. 

We  learned  later  that  the  roof  had  blown  off  a  set 
of  soldiers'  barracks,  which  explained  the  big  crash ;  and 
if  the  men,  who  were  unhurt,  are  to  be  believed,  that  roof 
is  flying  still.  Nipaville,  a  collection  of  shacks  occupied 
by  soldiers,  was  blown  away,  but  the  men,  lying  flat  to 
the  ground,  escaped  injury. 

Between  gusts  of  rain  and  fitful  blasts  we  reached  our 
house.  Gloom  settled  upon  me  at  beholding  the  wreck 
within,  and  the  tubs  and  pails  full  of  water  sitting  about. 
Our  thoughtful  boy  had  spread  raincoats  over  the  beds, 
and  we  hunted  dry  clothing  from  the  trunks. 

"What  do  they  do  in  Spain?"  I  asked  mournfully. 

"Why,"  answered  the  Colonel,  "they  let  it  rain." 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  67 

Mother  Goose  philosophy  set  us  laughing  over  our 
mishap. 


Camp  Stotsbnburg, 

I/UZON,  PhIIvIPPINB  ISt,ANDS, 

May,  1909. 

We  have  just  come  home  from  a  drive  across  the 
camp  to  the  canteen — that  misleading  name  for  post  ex- 
change— the  old  canteen,  without  the  beer.  The  soldier 
walks  six  miles  to  a  town  now,  and  gets  drink  that 
poisons  him.  Poor,  lonesome,  homesick  boys!  In  this 
camp  there  are  fully  fifteen  hundred  men.  They  have 
no  homes,  no  concerts,  theaters,  shops,  Hbraries,  or 
amusement-halls;  no  place  under  a  hot,  brassy  sky  but 
a  stifling  old  shack,  occupied  by  other  homesick  men,  a 
cot,  and  a  locker.  They  can  sit  on  the  locker  and  twirl 
their  thumbs  the  few  minutes  they  are  not  drilHng, 
fighting  Insurrectos,  guarding  Government  property,  or 
going  to  school;  but  there  is  no  place  of  amusement  for 
them  except  in  the  near-by  towns,  which  are  the  lowest 
of  places. 

Take  everything  that  makes  life  worth  living  away 
from  our  "first-class  fighting-man,"  and  leave  him  the 
monotony  of  heat,  the  bolo  that  cuts,  the  fever  that 
bums,  the  insects  that  sting,  the  cholera  and  the  plague, 
and  what  more  can  he  ask?  Is  it  not  enough  glory  to 
suffer  and  die  for  his  country  and  fifteen  dollars  a  month? 

At  noon  to  -  day  a  soldier  accidentally  shot  his 
"bunky,"  and  the  j>oor  fellow  who  was  so  careless  is 


68  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

almost  crazed  with  grief.  The  Colonel  happened  to  be 
the  first  to  arrive  at  the  barracks,  and  the  dying  boy- 
gasped:  "Sir,  I  am  wilUng  to  die  for  our  country,  I 
have  always  wanted  to  do  my  part."  It  shows  the 
spirit  of  the  American  soldier. 

A  very  dignified  officer  took  luncheon  with  us  to-day. 
He  is  new  to  the  service,  and  of  course  to  our  ways  of 
housekeeping  in  the  jungle;  and  I  do  not  know  what 
possessed  our  "boy"  to  dress  in  a  shirt  with  a  coat  over  it 
to  wait  on  table.  To  see  the  "boy"  stepping  about  with 
shirt-tails  flying  out  from  under  the  coat  was  startUng, 
but  I  could  not  have  him  change  his  costume  after  he 
had  appeared  to  announce  "tiffin." 

To-day  being  Decoration  Day,  the  flag  is  at  half-mast, 
the  band  is  playing  a  funeral  march,  and  officers  and 
troops  have  gone  out  to  the  cemetery  to  see  to  the  dec- 
orating of  the  few  graves  there.  The  graveyard  is  a 
desolate  spot.  One  must  go  across  a  banana-grove, 
through  the  edge  of  the  jungle,  and  the  great  weeds  and 
cogon  grass.  Giant  cactus  and  fern-trees  tower  above, 
with  an  occasional  beautiful  mango-  or  fire-tree.  The 
little  square  of  sun-baked  ground  is  fenced  in  with  un- 
painted  boards.  In  one  comer  are  two  tall  rain-trees. 
Underneath,  the  narrow  mounds,  marked  with  white- 
painted  boards  lettered  in  black.  I  am  glad  the  Govern- 
ment takes  home  our  soldier  dead.  It  would  be  too 
heart-breaking  to  leave  them  forever  in  this  alien  land. 

Everyone  is  rejoicing  over  a  new  cement  walk  all 
about  the  camp.  It  is  a  great  improvement  over  the  old 
one  of  loose  boards,  which  let  the  snakes  crawl  up  and 


Helen  Coaghlan  and  Oaki  (Japanese  Nurse) 


CO 


O 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  69 

over  the  feet  of  nervous  ladies  and  children.  The  natives 
have  a  legend  that  Noah's  ark  rested  on  the  top  of  Mount 
Arayat,  which  has  twin  peaks.  The  ark  sank  down  and 
made  the  hole  in  the  top  of  the  mountain.  At  that  time 
all  of  the  animals  were  run  over  the  next  range  of  mount- 
ains into  the  sea,  excepting  the  beloved  carabao,  dogs, 
tailless  cats,  chickens,  snakes,  rats,  and  insects.  I  must 
say  I  regret  that  the  snakes  and  flying  cockroaches  and 
their  kindred  were  not  run  along  with  the  rest. 

We  are  having  earthquakes  now  in  the  mornings. 
Everything  shakes  and  rattles,  and  our  neighbor's  dog 
howls  dismally.     Ah,  well! 

"On  different  heads  misfortune  falls. 
One  bears  them  firm ;  another  faints; 
While  this  one  hangs  them  like  a  drum 
Whereon  to  batter  loud  complaints." 


70  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 


SHOPPING  IN  THE  JUNGLE. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
I/UZON,  Phu,ippine  Islands. 

June,  1909. 

Sunday  morning  we  drove  over  to  Angeles,  a  town 
seven  miles  away,  to  see  the  natiive  breakfast  served  in 
the  public  square.  In  order  to  do  this,  we  and  the  neigh- 
bors who  went  with  us  breakfasted  together  at  5  o'clock, 
and  drove  over  a  narrow  road,  through  the  cogon  grass, 
with  four  horses  to  pull  the  covered  Army  wagon.  Along 
the  road  we  passed  nipa  houses,  with  thatched  roofs,  set 
high  above  the  ground  on  wooden  posts.  Underneath 
live  the  family  goat,  pigs,  and  chickens,  and  always  a 
lean  dog  or  two  prowls  about.  Leaning  out  from  the 
open  window-spaces  above,  the  family,  of  all  ages  and 
sizes,  returned  our  salutations  with  smiling  faces.  Some 
of  the  children  called  "Hello!"  in  shrill  tones,  eager  to 
display  their  knowledge  of  EngHsh. 

Angeles  has  about  sixteen  thousand  native  inhabit- 
ants. The  church  and  the  market  are  worth  seeing. 
Our  equipage  caused  great  excitement  as  we  drove  care- 
fully through  the  alleys,  where  the  children  played  in 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  71 

the  middle  of  the  road.  Native  men,  arrayed  in  stiff, 
white  suits,  bare  of  foot,  and  with  finely  woven  straw 
hats  set  jauntily  on  the  side  of  the  head,  stepped  courte- 
ously aside  to  let  us  pass.  It  is  modish  here  for  gentle- 
men to  carry  the  pet  rooster  under  one  arm,  and  these 
game  chickens  are  handsome  birds.  Their  owners  liked 
our  outspoken  admiration  of  them. 

We  drove  first  to  the  fine  old  church,  which  was  built 
by  the  Spaniards  in  1760.  Every  church  in  the  islands 
is  the  "oldest,"  but  to  Americans  even  the  comparative 
infancy  of  several  hundred  years  is  not  without  charm. 
The  church  in  Angeles  is  a  massive  stone  building,  with 
a  vine-covered  tower  of  beautiful  proportions.  Great 
cracks  in  the  stone  walls  tell  their  tale  of  earthquakes. 
The  church  has  several  entrances,  and  the  two  main  doors 
are  of  wood,  carved  in  exquisite  detail. 

Inside  a  mellow  light  was  on  alcoves  and  altars, 
showing  a  gleam  of  images  of  solid  gold,  a  superbly  carved 
gold  wine-service  that  came  from  Spain  in  an  old-time 
galleon,  with  candelabra,  crucifix,  and  plates.  The  altar 
was  ablaze  with  candles,  as  it  was  near  the  hour  for 
service,  and  from  the  organ-loft  an  unseen  player  made 
sweet  and  devotional  music.  The  pulpit,  of  dark  wood, 
with  insets  of  brass  and  shells,  is  carved  to  lace-like  fine- 
ness, and  the  paintings  are  so  faded  and  stained  with  time 
that  we  could  scarcely  make  out  the  subjects.  Relics, 
images,  shrines,  and  solemn  aisles  were  filled  with  peace 
and  incense.  There  was  a  distant  chanting  of  priests  in 
a  hidden  alcove.  It  must  have  taken  many  years  and 
and  thousands  of  pesos  to  build  this  beautiful  church. 


72  An  Army  Woman  in  ihe  Philippines 

Adjoining  is  the  convent  or  priest-house,  with  de- 
lightful gardens.  Women  are  not  allowed  to  pass  its 
heavy  gates,  but  the  kind  padre  who  showed  us  about 
allowed  us  to  peek  through  the  gratings.  We  could  see 
the  boys'  school,  and  the  garden  was  like  a  paradise, 
with  great  flowering  bushes,  tall  fire-trees,  taller  palms 
feathery  bamboo,  and  banana-trees,  through  which  bril- 
Uant  birds  trilled  and  twittered,  and  the  little  "love- 
birds" hopped  about,  so  tame  that  one  ventured  to  perch 
on  the  shoulder  of  a  young  priest,  who  paced  to  and  fro, 
intent  upon  his  book  of  prayers.  Choir-boys  and  aco- 
lytes in  red  and  white  and  black-robed  priests  walked  in 
the  shadowed  paths.  A  lovely  spot,  that  garden,  per- 
vaded with  quiet  and  solemnity. 

The  domestic  architecture  of  the  PhiUppines  is  dis- 
tinctly its  own.  The  best  type  of  dwelling  is  raised  on 
high  pillars  of  stone,  with  open  foundations,  and  the 
second  story  built  over  and  overhanging  the  first,  with 
wide-spreading  eaves.  These  houses  have  long,  open 
galleries  and  shell  windows,  and  the  floors  are  of  ma- 
hogany, which  is  kept  polished  to  a  mirror  surface. 

In  a  house  like  this,  adjoining  the  church  square, 
lives  the  presidente,  on  whom  we  left  cards.  It  is  the 
mansion  of  the  town.  Over  the  balcony  trail  moon- 
blossoms,  and  yellow  lilies  flaunt  in  the  white- walled  gar- 
den, where  still  flourish  the  old-fashioned  New  England 
flowers  planted  by  American  ladies  in  insurrection  days. 
Sweet  peas,  hollyhocks,  pansies,  and  pinks  looked  quaint 
and  prim,  growing  alongside  the  gay  tropical  blossoms. 
During  the  insurrection  General  M Uved  in  this 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  73 

house,  and  the  Colonel  had  often  dined  with  them  on  the 
wide  veranda. 

Then  we  set  out  for  market.  The  streets  were  filled 
with  natives,  wearing  their  Sunday  best.  A  rich  Filipino 
woman  wears  a  long  skirt,  the  length  of  which  denotes 
the  money  in  the  family.  We  noticed  one  woman  clad 
in  a  bright-red  skirt,  with  white  coin  spots  (a  favorite 
pattern)  and  the  camisa,  with  a  stiff  panuelo  (neck-cloth) , 
a  seventeenth-century  collar.  Corsets  are  unknown  to 
native  women.  Many  of  them  dress  in  black.  We  saw 
a  man  wearing  a  bright  flowered  camisa. 

The  market  is  a  raised  stone  platform,  surrounded  by 
a  gutter  and  roofed  with  thatch,  supported  by  tall  posts. 
Inside,  squatting  on  the  stones,  are  the  merchants,  nearly 
all  of  them  women.  The  "Httle  brown  sister"  occupies  a 
higher  position  in  the  PhiUppines  than  do  the  women  of 
China  or  Japan.  Here  the  women  buy  and  sell,  manage 
the  income,  and  run  the  little  tiendas  (shops.)  They  did 
not  ask  us  to  buy,  but  kept  up  a  continual  chattering 
with  one  another.  Naked  children  ran  after  us,  hailing 
us  as  "  Americanos. ' '  We  said  ' *  Hello ! ' '  politely,  wishing 
to  help  on  the  good  work  of  making  American  citizens. 

Baskets  of  all  shapes  and  sizes  were  piled  about  each 
group  of  shopkeepers,  and  over  cords  stretched  along 
the  little  matting  booths  were  hung  cheap  and  gaudy 
American  goods  and  really  pretty  native  fabrics.  Vege- 
tables, fruits,  fish,  and  bugs  were  displayed  in  shallow 
baskets — ^large  green  cucumbers  (shrieking  "Cholera!"), 
fine  bananas,  mangoes,  cocoanuts,  oranges,  Umes,  papayas, 
pili-nuts,  peanuts,  mud-fish,  black  and  snaky  shrimps, 


74  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

and  "chow-bugs,"  piles  of  dolce  (made  of  coarse  brown 
sugar,  covered  with  chocolate  and  cocoanut),  and  all 
smelHng  to  heaven. 

Groups  of  men,  women,  and  children  sat  or  stood 
about  the  market-place,  having  breakfast.  We  stopj>ed 
to  watch  a  woman  cooking  over  a  charcoal  fire,  a  large 
four-legged  iron  pan  serving  as  stove  and  utensil  at  the 
same  time.  In  the  pan  was  boiUng  grease.  With  a  long- 
handled  dipper,  made  from  a  cocoanut,  the  woman 
scooped  up  from  a  basket  alongside  something  that 
smelled  and  looked  like  sliced  cooked  cabbage;  on  this 
was  deftly  dropped  a  few  shelled  nuts  and  then  a  thin 
sauce,  which  may  have  been  made  of  egg  and  sugar. 
This  mixture  went  into  the  boiling  grease  and  soon  puffed 
up  into  a  fat,  round,  brown  cake.  The  cakes  were 
speared  out  with  a  long  two-tined  fork  and  eaten  hot 
with  apparent  reUsh  by  the  waiting  family.  A  cup  of 
thick  chocolate  completed  the  FiHpino  breakfast. 

We  drove  home,  laden  with  baskets,  fruits,  Uve 
chickens,  and  cloth  of  rainbow  tints.  Our  bungalows 
looked  inviting  by  comparison  with  the  Ufe  of  the  market 
and  filled  us  with  content;  for  in  this  world  it  is  com- 
parison which  determines  our  standards. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Phiuppine  Islands, 

June,  1909. 
We  are  rejoicing  in  the  possession  of  a  guest-room. 
It  is  only  a  comer  of  the  main  room,  shut  off  with  thin 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  75 

lumber,  with  matting  for  a  ceiling;  but  we  are  vastly 
proud  of  our  achievement. 

Furnishing  the  room  of  the  sometime  guest  ten  thou- 
sand miles  from  home  is  a  real  problem.  We  had  no 
guest-room  furniture;  it  has  gradually  evolved. 

Mrs.  G ,  coming  in,  found  me  gazing  disconso- 
lately at  the  bare,  dark  place,  and  suggested  the  practical 
work  of  washing  the  rafters  with  the  hose  as  "first  aid" 
to  the  room.  And  that  is  one  nice  thing  about  house- 
keeping in  the  tropics — ^when  you  want  to  clean  house, 
you  have  the  boys  take  all  the  furniture  outdoors,  and 
then  turn  on  the  hose.  It  is  all  over  in  a  few  moments, 
and  when  it  is  dry,  back  go  the  household  goods.  A 
vigorous  washing  with  the  hose  did  away  with  the  in- 
sects in  the  guest-room  to  be  and  even  dislodged  a  nice 
fat  chicken  that  was  roosting  up  in  a  comer. 

We  covered  the  floor  with  green  and  white  mats, 
which  were  nailed  also  over  the  rough  black  boards  of  the 
outside  wall.  The  large  open  spaces  leading  to  the  porch 
are  draped  with  an  effective  cotton  cref>e,  woven  in  broad 
green-and-white  strip>es,  a  bolt  of  which  was  purchased 
from  an  Indian  peddler.  The  house-boy  was  despatched 
to  the  foot-hills  for  bamboo — ^long,  round  fK)les,  which 
hold  the  curtains  at  the  top  and  bottom  of  the  window- 
spaces.  A  dressing-table  and  wash-stand,  made  from 
two  new  pine  tables,  are  covered  with  the  same  green  and 
white  crepe.  Over  the  dressing-table  is  a  mirror  in  a 
white  frame,  and  a  wash-stand  set  of  Chinese  ware  from 
Canton,  with  all  the  lovely  bowls  and  jars,  is  a  real 


76  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

treasure.  I  found  it  in  a  little  Chinese  shop  in  one  of 
the  near-by  towns. 

In  an  Army  chest,  once  packed  and  sent  to  Cuba,  was 
a  bolt  of  white  netting,  and  of  this  we  made  a  cover  for 
the  new  white  iron  bed.  Willow  chairs,  made  in  Hong- 
Kong,  were  added;  and,  really,  the  room  looks  very  liv- 
able. We  dropped  tacks  and  hammers,  and  surveyed 
our  work  with  pride,  when  Ah  Yan,  our  Chinese  cook, 
appeared,  saying,  "Missy  have  tea?" 

Ah  Yan  had  pulled  into  the  shade  on  the  side  porch 
two  long  steamer  chairs,  and  a  low  table  near  by  held  the 
Japanese  tray,  a  plate  of  frosted  cakes,  and  a  silver 
pitcher  of  iced  fruit-punch.  He  asks,  "Missy  like  tea 
welly  stout  or  welly  thin?"  This  is  "stout"  tea,  with 
much  fruit  and  mint. 

Ah  Yan  is  as  solemn  and  immovable  as  a  bronze 

image,  and  Mrs.  G ,  who  admires  him,  whispered, 

"Isn't  he  a  picture?"  And  he  is  indeed  immaculate  in  a 
green  linen  coat,  white  trousers,  and  white  linen  cap. 
He  added  a  dish  of  iced  mangoes  to  our  repast,  and  noise- 
lessly disappeared.  He  disapproves  of  "Missy"  and 
"fliend"  working,  hence  tea  served  by  himself.  One 
"loses  face"  if  he  works  before  Oriental  servants. 

The  first  guest  to  christen  the  new  room  was  General 
C .  The  servants  were  much  elated  at  our  enter- 
taining so  mucho  grande  a  person,  as  they  love  company, 
and  all  the  panoply  of  war  is  as  the  breath  of  their  nos- 
trils. The  firing  of  the  big  gun  in  salute,  announcing 
the  arrival  of  the  General  in  camp,  and  the  escort  of  a 
troop  of  cavalry  in  front  of  the  wagon  which  brought  the 


Children  of  Officers,  Camp  S,  with  Nurses 
New  Cement  Walk,  Camp  G,  Philippines 


Uthcers   Line,  Lamp  G,  Philippines 
Natives,  Showing  Use  of  Poisoned  Arrows 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  77 

guest,  added  to  their  joy.  The  house-boy,  in  his  stiff  est 
white  suit,  stood  on  the  walk  to  carry  the  hand-baggage, 
and  when  an  orderly  took  the  General's  satchel,  the  boy 
almost  wept  with  disappointment.  The  FiHpino  adores 
dignity,  display,  and  grandeur.  The  Spaniards  were, 
no  doubt,  overbearing,  but  they  were  never  cheap,  and 
they  have  left  their  mark  on  the  minds  of  the  natives. 

Ah  Yan,  too,  enjoyed  General  C 's  visit,  and  no 

amount  of  extra  work  seemed  to  dull  the  edge  of  his  satis- 
faction. When  he  first  came  we  were  being  entertained, 
and  Ah  Yan  was  unhappy.  He  came  to  me,  looking  Uke 
a  hired  mourner  at  a  funeral,  and  said:  "Missy  no  Ukee 
me?    Me  no  good  cook?" 

I  hastened  to  assure  him  that  I  was  pleased,  but  he 
was  unconvinced.  "You  no  catchee  somebody  to  eat 
allee  samee,"  he  told  me.  The  trouble  was  that  we  had 
done  no  entertaining.  I  explained  in  my  best  pigeon 
English  that  soon  we  "catchee"  everybody. 

We  had  a  reception  for  the  General,  and  I  used  the 
long  porch  as  a  reception-room,  with  rugs  and  chairs  on 
the  lawn.  Even  an  ordinary-looking  man  is  stunning 
in  the  white  uniform,  with  white  cap  and  shoes,  and  car- 
rying side-arms,  and  I  must  say  our  well-set-up  military 
men  looked  imposing  as  they  marched  up  the  walk  to- 
gether to  be  presented. 

Early  next  morning  all  of  the  ladies  drove  over  to 
the  drill-ground  to  watch  the  regiment  pass  in  review. 
It  is  a  thrilling  sight — band  playing,  flags  flying,  and 
men  and  horses  moving  together  in  perfect  time.     The 


78  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

horses  seem  to  enter  into  the  spirit  of  martial  music  as 
readily  as  the  men. 

Our  next  guest  was  Bishop  B .  We  tried  to  im- 
press upon  our  glory-loving  servants  that  the  "padre" 
was  also  mucho  grande,  and  that  everything  should  be  of 
the  best  for  him;  but  they  were  evidently  disappointed 
that  there  was  no  blowing  of  trump>ets  or  firing  of  guns. 
We  had  a  dinner-party  for  the  Bishop,  and  the  band 
played  a  sacred  concert,  as  it  was  Sunday.  Later  we 
drove  to  the  chapyel  for  evening  service. 

The  chapel  is  a  roughly  built  annex  to  the  hospital, 
originally  intended  as  an  officers'  ward,  but  another  room 
was  found  better  suited  to  the  purpose.  During  the 
week  this  room  is  used  as  a  school  for  the  children  part 
of  the  day  and  for  the  enhsted  men  the  other  part. 
Sunday-school  is  held  here  at  8  o'clock,  and  a  Sunday  ev- 
ening song-service  for  the  men.  At  one  end  of  the  room 
is  the  Ubrary  (if  a  collection  of  worn-out  books  can  be 
dignified  by  that  name),  and  at  the  other  a  small  trav- 
ehng  organ,  the  property  of  the  regiment.  The  school 
desks  and  chairs  (uncomfortable  little  things  that  tip 
alarmingly  unless  one  sits  very  still)  are  used  for  church. 
An  altar  and  reading-desk  are  made  from  pine  tables, 
covered  with  fine  white  linen.  Tall  brass  candlesticks 
stand  upon  the  altar  and  a  vase  of  pale  yellow  liUes. 

The  Bishop  brought  a  communion-service  for  our  use. 
He  looked  very  impressive  in  his  dark  purple  silk  robes. 

Candles  flickered,  throwing  leaping  shadows  on  raft- 
ers and  beams;  lamps  smoked  and  flared,  and  a  soldier 
quietly  turned  them  down;  grasshoppers,  long  and  vil- 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  79 

lainous  looking,  jumped  on  our  dresses;  "chow-bugs" 
flopped  noisily  against  the  lamp  chimneys  and  dropped 
with  a  thud  on  the  floor,  over  which  crawled  cockroaches 
and  ants ;  a  band  of  Negritos  from  the  mountains  pattered 
softly  across  the  porch  and  gazed  cmiously  through  the 
open  doorway ;  but  no  one  looked  away  from  the  Bishop, 
whose  sermon  filled  our  homesick  hearts  and  inspired  us 
to  new  courage  in  facing  our  duty  in  this  alien  land. 

If  anyone  feels  his  love  of  country  growing  faint 
within  him  let  him  come  to  the  other  side  of  the  world 
and  listen  to  a  roomful  of  soldiers  singing  "My  country, 
'tis  of  thee." 

We  had  early  communion  next  morning.  A  shower 
had  spangled  the  vines,  every  bush  was  full  of  blossoms, 
and  the  rain-tree  was  a  sparkle  of  wet  diamonds.  Mount 
Arayat  was  crystal-pink,  with  a  trailing  underskirt  of 
soft  clouds. 

To-day  is  field-day  in  camp — a  great  day  for  the  en- 
Usted  men,  as  they  are  to  have  athletic  sports,  and  have 
spent  all  their  spare  time  getting  their  horses  and  them- 
selves in  training.  Prizes  are  given  by  the  ofiicers  to  the 
winners  of  each  event.  Toward  evening  there  will  also 
be  a  polo  game,  played  by  the  young  officers. 

This  morning  the  Bishop  went  to  the  field  in  the 
Army  wagon  with  a  number  of  the  ladies,  but  he  was  too 
much  interested  in  the  sport  and  the  men  to  stay  with  us, 
and,  jumping  out,  was  soon  in  the  thick  of  the  crowd 
of  men. 

At  the  field  a  Negrito  offered  to  sell  us  a  snake  skin 
five  feet  long  and  a  large  bow  and  arrow.     Hehad  on  a 


8o  "An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

red  shirt  and  a  straw  hat,  which  he  touched  in  salute,  and 
said,  "Hello!" 

The  insects  increase  with  the  heat.  The  worst  of 
all  the  pests,  I  think,  are  the  flying  ants.  They  are  so 
tiny  that  they  get  in  hair,  eyes,  ears,  and  crawl  up  short 
sleeves  and  down  one's  neck,  but  we  are  learning  to  sit 
calmly  and  let  them  crawl.  A  hand  electric  light  is  an 
undying  joy.  At  night  one  can  throw  a  searchlight  over 
and  under  the  bed  to  see  what's  doing  in  the  rat,  snake, 
or  bug  hne. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Phiuppine  Islands, 

June,  1909. 

We  do  all  our  shopping  at  our  own  front  doors,  where 
Indian,  Chinese,  Japanese  or  FiHpino  peddlers,  carrying 
their  goods  in  baskets  and  hampers,  display  their  wares. 
Every  month  they  come  and  cover  our  porches  with  em- 
broideries, carved  ivories,  brasses,  sandalwood,  and  gor- 
geous silks. 

An  Indian  peddler  came  to-day.  He  is  a  tall,  dark 
man,  bearded  like  a  stage  pirate,  dressed  in  white,  and 
wearing  a  turban.  He  holds  out  a  beaded  scarf  or  a 
piece  of  delicately  carved  ivory,  saying  in  soft  tones: 
' '  Lady,  you  much  money.  Me  poor  Indian.  You  buy  ? ' ' 
With  the  Indian  come  strong-limbed  coolies,  who  trot 
along,  carrying  the  straw  hampers,  filled  with  goods, 
slung  on  long  poles. 

The  peddlers  always  set  a  high  price,  expecting  to 


Returning  from  the  River,  Camp  G,  Philippines 
Air  Plants  (Orchids)  for  Sale 


Negritos  Bringing  Air  Plants  to  Sell,  Philippines 
Wild  Men  of  the  Philippines 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  8i 

bargain  for  hours.  After  strenuous  bargaining,  as  I 
supposed,  I  parted  with  gold,  and  became  the  proud 
owner  of  a  heavily  embroidered  tablecloth ;  but  my  neigh- 
bor laughed  and  told  me  I  would  learn — that  I  had  paid 
too  much  for  it. 

Our  Chinese  peddler  has  a  cheerful  soul.  He  comes 
lightly  up  the  steps  of  the  porch,  carrying  a  basket  on 
his  head.  He  wears  a  long,  dark  blue  linen  gown  and 
black  cloth  trousers,  soft,  white-soled  shoes,  and  no  head- 
covering  but  his  queue.  He  smiles  and  smiles.  "Good 
day.  You  look-see?"  And  the  surrounding  space  is 
promptly  littered  with  mandarin  coats  of  brilliant  hues, 
linens  of  many  colors  by  the  bolt,  silks,  pongees  from 
Chi-fu  ("allee  samee  ploper  silk  from  China"),  luncheon 
sets  embroidered  with  dragons,  birds,  flowers,  and  bam- 
boo, exquisite  and  very  cheap. 

The  Japanese  carries  a  basket  on  his  back.  He  is 
dark,  alert,  and  silent.  Kimonos  of  silk  or  cotton  crepe 
in  soft  colors  make  rainbows  over  the  chairs  where  he 
spreads  them.  Among  his  wares  there  are  fans,  lanterns, 
boxes,  and  trays. 

A  Filipino  woman  in  native  dress  (a  bright  pink  skirt 
with  a  little  train,  white  underwaist,  and  a  yellow-and- 
pink-checked  overwaist  of  thin  piiia  cloth),  her  thick,  fine 
hair  coiled  low  on  her  neck  and  pinned  with  coral  pins, 
and  hoop  ear-rings  of  pearls  in  her  small,  well-shaped 
ears,  carries  her  stock  in  a  square  of  white  Unen.  It 
consists  of  laces  and  embroideries,  waists  and  dresses, 
made  by  a  girl  who  has  only  one  eye.     The  brown  woman 


83  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

has  a  low  voice,  that  "excellent  thing  in  woman,"  and 
the  money  flies  out  of  our  pockets. 

The  old  Filipino  hat  and  cane  merchant  is  great  fun. 
He  is  dressed  in  white  cotton  and  wears  a  marvel  of  a  hat. 
Under  one  arm  is  a  bunch  of  canes  and  under  the  other  a 
handkerchief  bundle  of  hats.  These  hats  are  as  soft  as 
silk  and  as  shiny  as  satin.  They  are  woven  double  for 
coolness,  and  are  quite  the  equal  of  the  renowned  Pan- 
amas. Native  fiber  is  used — that  of  palm,  spht  bam- 
boo, banana,  or  grass — and  the  hats  must  be  woven 
under  water  to  insure  the  coolness  of  the  weaver's  fingers 
and  to  keep  the  strands  pHable  during  the  weaving.  In 
several  provinces  nearly  all  the  inhabitants  are  hat- 
weavers  and  have  been  for  generations.  There  are 
"Rizal,"  "BaHuag,"  and  "Lucban"  hats. 

The  hat-man  speaks  a  dialect  and  a  Httle  book- 
Spanish,  and  is  so  amusing  that  he  makes  easy  sales. 
He  has  an  inimitable  manner,  and  helps  out  his  conver- 
sation with  much  gesture  and  waving  of  his  expressive 
hands.  He  is  "very  poor  hombre" ;  he  "work  mucho"; 
and  his  pickaninnies — well,  he  began  with  ten,  but  with 
every  visit  to  camp  (and  these  occur  every  two  months 
or  so)  the  number  of  his  progeny  increases  at  an  alarming 
rate,  and  he  now  declares  himself  the  parent  of  nineteen. 

"No  got  rice,"  he  mourns,  with  a  shrug  of  his  thin 
old  shoulders  and  palms  held  up  and  out.  We  bargain 
back  and  forth  over  the  pile  of  hats  and  canes  until  I  take 
to  whining,  too,  and  am  tempted  to  declare  to  no  rice  and 
a  few  pickaninnies  of  my  own. 

The  man  who  sells  mats,  baskets,  and  native  bamboo 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  83 

furniture  completes  the  shopping  faciHties  at  our  doors. 
For  anything  else  we  must  go  to  Manila. 

The  Tosu  Maru,  from  Seattle,  is  in  pyort,  and  we  are 
rejoicing  in  the  home  letters,  written  in  March  (it  is 
late  June  now),  which  "put  us  on  the  map"  once  more. 
All  day  long  I  have  been  fairly  glued  to  the  porch  watch- 
ing the  little  nipa  shack  marked  "Post-Office."  The 
sacred  cows  of  India  are  found  in  these  islands,  but 
they  do  not  compare  for  sacredness  with  the  old  Army 
mule  that  brings  the  mail  from  home  about  the  camp  the 
day  it  arrives.  The  island  mail  is  brought  to  our  doors 
by  an  orderly  afoot. 

How  anxiously  and  eagerly  we  watch  the  progress  of 
the  old  black-and-tan  mule,  hitched  to  a  two- wheeled 
cart,  covered  with  blue  canvas  and  bearing  the  magic 
words,  "U.  S.  Mail"!  A  soldier  walks  beside  the  cart, 
diving  into  it  as  he  reaches  each  set  of  quarters,  and 
running  across  the  lawns  to  give  into  eager  hands  the 
precious  bundle  tied  with  rope.  The  mule  stops,  turning 
a  haughty  face,  as  though  he  knows  that  twice  a  month 
at  least  he  is  watched  and  waited  for,  and  is  "as  one 
set  apart." 

Last  night  we  dined  with  our  Kentucky  friends. 
Dear  old  Mme.  X !  She  spoils  her  servants  dread- 
fully, and  upsets  discipHne  by  feeding  the  prisoners 
working  at  her  back  door  and  giving  them  papers  to  read; 
but  no  one  would  wish  it  otherwise.  There  are  so  few 
white-haired  fathers  and  mothers  from  the  States  here 
in  these  islands. 

After  dinner  we  sat  on  the  porch  in  the  white  moon- 


84  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

light,  talking  softly.  The  men  smoked,  and  Madame 
nodded  her  pretty  white  head,  all  smiles,  over  the  jests. 
Presently  faithful  Lucindy  appeared  with  a  Hght  wrap 
for  "Ole  Miss,"  and  we  said  "Good  night,"  and  walked 
home  across  the  parade-ground,  still  under  the  spell  of 
her  serene  old  age. 

The  Milky  Way  was  a  white  half-circle  across  the 
sky,  and  the  Southern  Cross  just  a  point  of  light  behind 
the  mountains.  It  was  long  after  "taps."  A  night  bird 
called  shrilly  from  a  near-by  thicket;  scents  of  fruit  and 
jBiowers  drifted  on  the  faint  breeze.  We  felt  lonely  and 
exiled. 

A  mounted  sentinel  rode  by,  challenging  us,  "Who 
goes  there?"  and  over  by  the  store-house  we  heard  an- 
other caUing,  "Twelve  o'clock  and  all's  well." 

From  the  banana-grove  in  the  foot-hills  came  the  faint 
echo,  "All's  well." 


Negrito  Family  Selling  Ferns,  Camp  G,  Philippines 


1--' 

•  iai  'fif 

3 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  85 


VI. 

DINNERS  AND  DELUGES. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Phiuppine  Isi^ands, 

July,  1909. 

It  is  the  first  day  the  sun  has  shone  upon  us  for  weeks, 
and  we  have  emptied  trunks  and  chests  to  put  their  con- 
tents out  to  dry.  The  yard  and  porches  are  filled  with 
clothing  that  is  green  and  white  with  mold.  Everything 
leather  is  dreadfully  mildewed,  although  all  the  trunks 
and  other  receptacles  have  been  set  on  wooden  frames 
high  above  the  floor  and  against  inside  walls.  We  have 
them  upside  down  in  the  yard  while  the  sun  is  shining. 

Every  morning  the  "boy"  takes  out  a  shelf  ful  of  shoes 
which  are  green  with  mold,  and  wij)es  them  clean  with 
oil,  repeating  the  process  daily.  At  night  we  put  the 
clothes  we  expect  to  wear  next  day  under  rain-coats  to 
keep  some  of  the  moisture  out.  Damp  clothing  is  so 
sticky  and  uncomfortable! 

Everything  was  drying  gloriously  out  in  the  yard 
when  down  came  the  rain !  The  whole  household  flew  to 
the  rescue — ^Ah  Yan  with  pig-tail  flying  and  yellow  slip- 
pers flopping,  Decio  with  bare  feet  spitty-spat.     For  the 


86  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

rest  of  the  day  we  all  worked  at  replacing  the  clothing  in 
trunks  and  chests. 

The  lovely  fire- tree  in  our  yard  is  about  to  blossom. 
The  blossoming  of  the  fire-tee  is  the  signal  for  the  head- 
hunters  to  start  out  for  their  gruesome  trophies.  No 
head-hunter  can  hope  to  win  a  bride  until  he  brings  her 
at  least  one  head  as  evidence  of  his  prowess.  A  novel 
love-gift,  is  it  not?  Fortunately,  these  gory  savages  are 
not  enamored  of  any  old  head,  but  take  only  those  of 
their  tribal  enemies;  so  foreigners  feel  somewhat  secure. 
The  Government,  however,  usually  calls  in  the  map- 
makers  from  the  wild  districts  at  this  time. 

Down  in  Moroland,  where  the  pirates  are  giving  much 
trouble,  they  have  a  playful  way  of  stealing  into  the 
villages  by  night  and  under  the  nipa  shacks,  where  they 
thrust  their  poisoned  spears  up  through  the  floors  and  im- 
pale their  victims  while  they  sleep.  Some  of  the  Army 
ladies  have  felt  nervous  since  they  learned  of  this  method 
of  warfare,  and  keep  their  trunks  and  heavy  clothes- 
chests  imder  the  beds. 

Speaking  of  beds,  the  guest  who  last  occupied  our 
green-and-white  room  would  have  slept  but  ill  if  he  had 
seen  the  enormous  black  spider,  bearing  a  large  white 
egg  on  her  back,  that  sat  upon  one  of  the  pillows  to-day. 
When  I  saw  her  spidership  my  war-cry  would  have  turned 
a  FiUpino  bolo-man  green  with  envy.  Kitty  soon  had 
the  unwelcome  guest  in  her  sharp  Httle  claws. 

It  is  raining  again !  Such  a  noise  on  the  tin  roof  that 
we  cannot  make  ourselves  heard  without  screaming ;  and 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  87 

as  there  is  no  news  worth  screaming  over,  we  play  dummy 
bridge. 

The  house  is  pervaded  with  the  odor  of  Hme  and  car- 
boHc  acid,  for  cholera  is  with  us.  It  is  a  mile  away,  but 
all  the  servants  who  come  from  the  infected  district  are 
quarantined,  and  guards  are  posted  to  keep  the  Filipinos 
out  of  camp  and  the  gay  soldiers  in.  The  natives  try  to 
conceal  the  existence  of  contagious  diseases,  and  some- 
times bury  -the  victims  before  they  are  dead.  Printed 
orders  and  sanitary  regulations  are  posted  everywhere 
about  the  camp  and  are  nailed  on  the  porch  and  the 
kitchen  wall.  We  read  them  to  our  assembled  servants, 
who  regarded  the  performance  with  tolerant  indulgence 
as  another  kind  of  house  ceremony  peculiarly  American. 

The  natives  beHeve  a  black  dog  runs  through  the 
streets  bringing  cholera.  It  is  the  will  of  God,  they  say, 
and  take  no  precautions. 

Because  of  the  cholera,  we  have  to  eat  tinned  or 
bottled  foods,  and  even  the  eggs  we  buy  here  are  put  into 
jars  of  lime-water  before  using.  We  miss  the  fresh  fruit 
and  vegetables,  of  course,  and  grow  tired  of  eating  and 
drinking  everything  boiling  hot. 

Everything  must  be  scrubbed,  boiled,  and  disinfected; 
and  we  have  learned  the  meaning  of  the  term  "eternal 
vigilance"  out  here  in  the  bosque  as  we  never  knew  it  be- 
fore. An  officer  must  inspect  villages,  barracks,  yards, 
and  even  slop-cans  to  see  that  the  sanitary  regulations 
are  carried  out,  and  go  daily  upyon  this  errand  on  horse- 
back. This  rigorous  treatment  is  death  to  germs,  and  it 
will  be  a  brave  cholera  microbe  that  invades  this  camp. 


88  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

My  nerves  are  very  well,  thank  you.  When  I  can 
sit  still  in  church,  feeling  a  huge  bug  crawling  up  on  my 
arm,  and  can  extract  a  green  beetle  from  under  my  collar 
without  an  outcry,  and  preserving  a  churchly  attitude 
the  while,  it  is  evident  that  my  nerves  are  no  more  of  the 
American  variety.  Even  taking  the  electric  light  to  bed 
is  losing  its  novelty. 

Up  in  Baguio,  the  summer  capital  of  l/uzon  Island, 
is  a  small  Protestant  church.  It  is  remarkable  chiefly  for 
the  Igorrote  boy  who,  during  service,  passes  the  offertory- 
plate,  dressed  in  a  short,  white  cotton  coat,  American 
shirt,  high  collar,  and  four-in-hand  tie,  with  a  broad 
green-and-yellow  sash,  called  a  sarong,  fastened  about  his 
waist,  the  ends  falHng  in  front,  but  with  no  trousers  or 
covering  for  his  brown  legs.  He  is  rather  a  surprising 
sight.  The  Igorrote  people  are  larger  and  better-looking 
than  most  of  the  Filipinos. 

The  day's  mail  has  brought  us  leave  to  go  to  China 
and  Japan,  also  permits  from  our  embassy  in  Tokio  to 
visit  certain  castles,  palaces,  gardens,  and  a  fort.  The 
passports  are  thick,  yellow  paper,  over  which  a  hen  has 
inadvertently  strayed  with  inky  feet,  the  seal  of  the 
embassy  at  one  comer.  I  wonder  which  chicken-track 
means  our  names? 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 

IfUZON,  PhIUPPINE  ISI.ANDS, 

July,  1909. 
We  have  had  a  marriage  in  camp,  celebrated  at  8 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  so  that  the  "happy  pair"  could 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  89 

reach  Manila  in  time  to  sail  on  an  afternoon  boat  for 
China. 

The  chapel  was  decorated  with  green  and  white,  and 
all  the  ladies  wore  their  prettiest  thin  dresses  When  the 
wagonette  was  sent  down  the  line  to  gather  up  the  guests, 
consternation  reigned,  for  the  first  lady  appeared  with  a 
hat  on,  and  hats,  you  must  know,  are  decided  "back  num- 
bers" here,  as  most  of  us  have  not  seen  a  millinery  shop 
for  two  years,  and  this  climate  destroys  feathers,  silks, 
and  flowers.  As  she  spied  that  bonnet,  every  woman 
flew  back  into  her  house  to  hunt  a  hat  that  would  do; 
and  as  those  of  us  who  are  blessed  with  two  or  more  loaned 
them  to  the  hatless,  we  all  finally  arrived  quite  formally 
attired,  which,  it  was  whispered,  would  be  expected,  as 
the  mother  of  the  groom  had  come  from  the  States  for 
the  wedding.  But,  as  luck  would  have  it,  the  lady  from 
home  was  the  only  one  who  did  not  wear  a  hat,  for  the 
thoughtful  bride,  knowing  the  deplorable  st'ate  of  our 
head-gear,  had  suggested  that  the  visitor  dispense  with 
her  bonnet. 

The  bride  wore  an  embroidered  cr^pe  de  Chine  dress, 
made  in  Yokohama,  and  the  groom  his  white  linen  uni- 
form. They  were  an  attractive  pair.  The  bishop  came 
from  Manila  to  perform  the  ceremony. 

Breakfast  was  served  at  small  tables  on  the  porch 
of  the  bride's  home;  and  of  course  she  cut  the  cake  with 
her  husband's  saber — the  first  cutting  that  new  saber  had 
done,  I  think.  Much  merriment  was  caused  by  the  in- 
scription, "Q.  M.  D."  (Quartermaster's  Department), 
with  which  the  Chinese  cook  had  ornamented  the  cake. 


90  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

No  doubt  he  thought  it  the  family  coat-of-arms.     It 
looked  like  a  wireless  call. 

The  gifts  were  unusual  and  characteristic  of  this 
part  of  the  world :  silver,  lacquer,  crepes,  fans,  and  lan- 
terns from  Japan,  fine  just  and  pina  cloth  from  the  Phil- 
ippines, lace-like  embroideries,  mats  and  furniture,  man- 
darin coats,  camphorwood  chests,  carved  ivory  boxes, 
and  sandalwood  from-  China,  and  beautiful  rugs,  dra- 
peries, gauze,  and  ebony  carvings  from  India. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Phiuppine  Islands, 

July,  1909. 

We  are  in  the  midst  of  the  rainy  season,  and  this 
means  not  polite  Uttle  showers,  but  great  cloud-bursts  of 
water — night  and  day  a  steady  downpour  of  rain,  that 
is  said  to  last  six  months.  Cheerful  prospect,  isn't  it? 
A  tin  spout  has  been  put  over  the  front  steps  to  catch  the 
stream  of  water  descending  from  the  roof  and  turn  it 
aside,  so  that  we  may  go  up  and  down  without  being 
deluged. 

We  shut  a  few  of  the  bam-like  doors  and  use  candles 
at  luncheon  in  the  middle  of  the  day.  With  our  two 
precious  glass  windows  we  can  see,  but  not  to  read  or 
write  without  lamps.     The  house  smells  like  a  tomb. 

Oil  stoves  dry  the  bedding  and  clothing,  as  there 
are  no  fireplaces  or  stoves,  except  the  kitchen  range. 
The  laundress  has  stretched  a  rope  about  three  sides  of 
the  porch  and  this  is  filled  with  dripping  clothes.     I  feel 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  91 

as  though  we  were  running  a  Chinese  laundry;  all  that 
we  need  is  a  sign,  "Hop  Lee,"  to  convert  us  into  the  real 
thing. 

Outside  the  thermometer  registers  only  80°,  but  in- 
side we  sit  shivering  about  the  oil  stoves  in  the  vain  hope 
of  keeping  warm.  And  the  rain  descends  upon  the  just 
and  the  unjust. 

Decio  is  laid  by  with  a  felon  on  his  finger,  and  we 
wasted  no  time  in  sending  him  to  the  hospital,  remem- 
bering the  luck  of  our  neighbors,  whose  boy  was  ailing, 
and  the  surgeon  pronounced  it  leprosy.  The  poor  boy 
had  to  go  to  the  leper  island;  and,  although  the  entire 
house  was  fumigated  and  some  of  the  things  were  burned, 
it  made  everyone  nervous  for  a  time. 

" Boy's"  brother  is  here  in  his  place  until  he  recovers. 
He  stalks  stolidly  about  in  shirt-tail,  short  drawers,  and 
bare  feet,  smoking  enormous  cigarettes.  He  speaks  not 
a  word,  and  looks  an  Insurrecto  of  the  deepest  dye.  All 
the  other  relatives  of  the  sick  boy  have  appeared  also, 
as  if  they  had  dropped  from  the  sky,  and  are  now  sitting 
on  their  heels  in  the  servants'  room,  smoking  and  waiting 
for  "chow."  Ah  Yan,  who  is  economical  to  the  verge 
of  stinginess,  fairly  writhes  with  disgust  at  having  to  feed 
so  much  good  rice  to  natives.  He  cooks  just  enough  for 
the  exact  number  of  persons  at  our  table,  and  always 
asks,  "How  many  mouths?"  An  unexpected  guest 
would  fare  badly.  Once  we  asked  for  more  coffee  after 
dinner.  "Boy"  appeared,  looking  very  solemn,  and 
announced,  "No  got."  Ah  Yan  had  provided  just  two 
small  cups  of  delicious,  freshly  made  coffee,  and  no  more. 


92  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Mangoes  are  expensive  now,  but  can  be  had  by  paying 
the  price.  I  told  Ah  Yan  several  times  to  buy  them, 
but  he  always  made  a  point  of  forgetting,  and  when  at 
last  I  insisted,  his  countenance  took  on  an  expression 
of  deep  disapproval.  "  Much  expenz,  Sefiora."  This 
morning  he  came  to  me  for  quinine  (everyone  has  mal- 
aria here),  and  I  gave  him  four  large  capsules.  Just 
now  he  deposited  with  care  upon  my  desk  the  empty 
shells,  saying:  "I  eat  him.  Here's  dish."  When  I 
made  him  understand  that  the  capsules  might  be  "eaten" 
also,  he  quickly  chewed  them,  remarking,  "Little  jelly 
make  well."     Chinese  English  is  so  droll. 

Ah  Yan  and  I  have  a  soul-racking  time  ordering  gro- 
ceries, but  I  am  gradually  becoming  used  to  the  intrica- 
cies of  his  vocabulary,  and  when  he  tells  me  "hot  cakes, " 
I  write  down  "maple  syrup"  with  alacrity.  "AUee 
samee  little  ones"  are  currants,  "big  ones"  being  raisins. 
"AUee  samee  crabs"  are  shrimps.  It  is  still  somewhat 
of  an  ordeal  for  both  of  us,  however.  Ah  Yan's  Buddha 
countenance  twists  and  his  eyes  roll  despairingly  at  the 
difficulties  of  making  me  understand  the  wants  of  our 
culinary  department. 

Decio  says  "sir"  for  "madam"  and  "no"  for  "yes," 
which,  to  the  uninitiated,  is  somewhat  confusing.  After 
my  experience  here,  I  should  have  no  difficulty  in  con- 
versing with  the  monkeys  of  the  jungle. 

The  commanding  officer  has  an  orderly,  detailed  from 
the  soldiers,  who  stays  certain  hours  on  duty  to  run 
errands  and  carry  messages.  This  important  person  is 
selected  from  the  new  guard  every  morning,  the  soldiers 


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An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  93 

vying  to  be  chosen,  for  in  this  hot  cUmate  the  orderly- 
may  sit  in  the  shade  of  the  bamboo-tree  or  on  the  cool 
porch,  awaiting  errands.  As  every  word  can  be  heard 
from  the  front  to  the  back  of  these  flimsy  bungalows, 
we  regulate  our  conversation  for  the  ears  of  this  func- 
tionary. The  soldier  who  is  the  most  spick  and  span  as 
regards  clothing  and  equipments  is  selected.  Last  week 
a  rather  pale-faced  orderly  reported.  He  coughed  with  a 
hollow,  grave-yard  sound,  which  distressed  me  so  much 
that  I  asked  the  Colonel  to  send  him  to  his  quarters, 
fearing  that  the  rain  was  making  him  ill.  Next  morning 
a  husky  orderly  appeared,  who  also  coughed  long  and 
lustily.  I  suspected  tuberculosis,  and  begged  for  him  to 
be  sent  back  also.  The  following  morning  another  giant 
arrived,  also  afflicted  with  a  cough — worse,  if  anything, 
than  his  predecessors' .  The  Colonel  shook  his  head  and 
smiled.  "  The  game  is  played  out,"  he  said;  and  when 
he  failed  to  send  the  cougher  back  to  quarters,  the 
epidemic  subsided. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Philippine  IsIvANds, 

July,  1909. 
We  awakened  this  morning  to  brilHant  sunshine,  and 
are  dried  and  warmed  throughout  the  house.  The 
flowers  have  opened  to  fresh  beauty,  and  the  leaves  of 
the  rain-tree,  which  have  been  tightly  closed,  are  un- 
folded wide.  Great  bumble-bees,  nearly  as  large  as 
humming-birds,  fly  in  and  out  among  the  porch  vines. 


94  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

buzzing  like  saw-mills.  A  wave  of  heliotrope  blossoms 
envelops  the  front  of  the  house,  and  one  vine  has  ven- 
tured out  on  the  telephone  wire  to  a  pK)le  across  the  road 
and  loaded  it  with  pink  flowers. 

We  have  planted  twelve  Hawaiian  papaya-trees,  and 
in  six  months  whoever  Uves  here  can  lean  over  the  porch 
raiUng  and  pick  papayas  for  breakfast.  All  the  officers 
are  planting  vines,  flowers,  and  fruits  for  the  incoming 
regiment,  who  will  be  here  this  winter  to  reUeve  this 
regiment  and  let  us  all  go  home. 

Every  Tuesday  night  the  officers'  club  is  open  to 
ladies  to  dance,  play  cards,  and  read,  and  we  have  our 
parties  and  receptions  there.  The  club-house  is  a  long, 
one-story  frame  building,  the  roof  sloping  down  over  the 
IX)rch,  with  wide  eaves.  A  mass  of  vines  covers  the 
front  of  the  house,  in  which  round  holes  are  cut  to  ad- 
mit Ught  and  air.  Willow  tables  and  chairs  are  group>ed 
about  the  porch,  which  is  lighted  by  Chinese  lanterns. 
Inside  is  a  large  dancing-hall,  a  supper-  and  card -room, 
and  another  small  room,  which  is  used  as  a  library  for 
the  officers. 

On  ladies'  nights  those  who  are  not  dancing  sit  on 
the  porch  watch  the  stars,  and  listen  to  the  music 
from  the  dancing-room.  Lucindy,  who  is  the  only  col- 
ored person  from  the  States  in  camp,  and  therefore  a 
privileged  character,  comes  slowly  down  the  walk  with  a 

wrap  for  Mme.  X .     She  always  carries  a  palm-leaf 

fan  and  a  green  cotton  umbrella,  so  as  to  be  ready  for 
any  "submergency,"  she  says.  A  young  lieutenant  from 
Georgia  gives  Lucindy  a  chair  near  the  porch,  where  she 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  95 

can  watch  the  dancing  and  hear  the  band,  which  she 
dearly  loves.  The  light  falls  across  the  kind  black  face, 
and  when  "My  Old  Kentucky  Home"  floats  out  in  home- 
sick melody,  the  tears  fall  fast  into  the  green  umbrella  top. 

A  Sunday  paper  from  home  covers  my  desk  and 
beckons  to  my  lounging-chair.  Papers  are  precious  here 
and,  though  of  ancient  date,  are  eagerly  read  and  passed 
around. 

Gloom  has  settled  on  the  camp  to-day,  for  news  has 
just  been  telegraphed  of  a  terrible  fight  between  our 
troops  and  Moro  outlaws  in  Jolo.  Many  soldiers  have 
been  wounded  with  the  deadly  holo;  one  young  officer 
may  die  and  another  is  dreadfully  wounded.  The  out- 
laws sprang  out  of  caves  and  fell  upon  our  troops.  Bullets 
could  not  stop  them. 

A  delightful  bachelor  officer  at  the  post,  neither  young 
nor  old,  has  a  Philippine  carriage  and  a  span  of  ponies, 
driven  by  a  native  coachman,  who  is  inordinately  vain 
of  his  brand-new  livery  and  top-boots.  The  Captain 
takes  all  of  the  ladies  driving  in  turn,  and  lately  was 
showing  the  camp  to  a  visiting  young  girl,  when  from 
the  proverbial  cloud,  "no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand," 
rain  descended.  The  driver,  in  an  agony  of  concern  for 
his  cherished  livery,  leaped  from  the  box  and  divested 
himself  of  coat,  hat,  and  boots.  Trousers  were  about  to 
follow  suit,  when  the  astonished  Captain  intervened. 
He  confided  to  us  that  'twas  ever  thus;  some  untoward 
happening  always  prevented  him  from  winning  a  lovely 
maiden. 

After  the  whole  earth  hereabout  had  been  disinfected 


96  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

as  a  precautionary  measure,  the  cholera  epidemic  is  over 
and  the  scare  is  subsiding.  One  man,  a  native,  died  on 
this  reservation;  and  the  doctor  who  had  charge  of  the 
five  cases  recently  reported  in  the  nearest  town,  upon 
being  asked  how  his  patients  were  doing,  replied  cheer- 
fully, "All  dead." 

This  constant  battle  against  cholera,  leprosy,  and  the 
plague,  not  to  mention  dysentery,  malaria,  and  the  hor- 
rible skin  diseases,  gets  on  the  nerves;  but  at  least,  to- 
gether with  spiders  and  scorpions,  earthquakes  and  ty- 
phoons, they  leave  us  no  excuse  for  being  dull. 


Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Philippine  Islands, 

August,  1909. 

A  Negrito  has  sold  to  me  for  10  cents  a  most  beautiful 
and  unusual  air-plant.  It  has  a  fern  growing  from  the 
center  and  a  mass  of  large  pale  yellow  blossoms  that 
look  like  faces.  Out  on  the  porch  the  new  plant  waves, 
a  lovely  harmony  of  greens  and  pinky  yellows. 

This  morning  it  grew  suddenly  dark,  as  though  a 
storm  were  coming  up,  and  a  cloud  of  locusts  came  down 
on  us  from  the  mountains.  There  were  millions  of  them, 
sailing  in  a  body  of  almost  military  formation,  down 
over  the  roofs  of  our  houses,  across  the  parade-ground, 
and  on  to  the  Filipino  town  four  miles  away — that  is,  all 
that  were  not  caught  by  the  natives  here.  At  the  first 
approach  of  the  cloud,  the  natives  from  every  part  of  the 
camp,  carrying  long  poles  with  netting  ba^s  on  the  ends, 


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An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  97 

went  out  to  catch  the  locusts,  which  they  consider  a 
table  delicacy.  They  are  eaten  raw,  cooked  in  vinegar, 
or  preserved  in  honey.  It  makes  one  think  of  the  Bible 
account  of  John  eating  locusts  and  wild  honey  in  the 
wilderness.  Our  neighbor  went  into  her  kitchen  and 
discovered  a  pot  of  them  stewing  on  the  stove ;  naturally, 
she  felt  anxious  at  dinner  that  there  should  be  no  careless 
exchange  of  "chow." 

A  young  officer  here  declares  he  had  to  eat  locusts  once 
at  a  native  fiesta,  as  he  did  not  wish  to  offend  his  Filipino 
host  by  declining.  A  detachment  of  soldiers  were  out 
with  wagons  when  the  locusts  arrived;  the  wagon- wheels 
crushed  them  inches  deep,  and  they  hit  the  men,  in  a 
dense  cloud,  full  in  their  faces,  which  must  have  been 
rather  trying,  as  some  of  the  locusts  are  four  inches  long. 

The  Governor-general  and  certain  high  Army  officials 
from  Manila  have  been  here  on  a  visit.  Some  of  these 
favorites  of  fortune  live  in  charming  palaces,  have  their 
yachts,  and  summer  palaces  up  in  Baguio.  They  work  in 
large,  cool  buildings,  and  when  they  become  enervated, 
run  over  to  Japan  or  China  for  a  change  of  air.  But 
don't  think  for  a  moment  that  the  average  Army  man  is 
of  these,  or  that  life  or  work  means  the  same  for  the 
officers  and  men  who  are  stationed  in  the  jungle,  or  for 
those  not  high  in  civil  authority.  We  who  live  in  such 
camps  as  this  know  the  meaning  of  life  in  a  tropic  wilder- 
ness, and  the  value  of  the  daily  victory  we  must  achieve 
to  keep  our  homes  habitable  and  our  households  in  health. 
It  is  a  never-ending  battle  against  heat,  damp,  typhoons, 
earthquakes,  vermin,  and   disease.     But  do  not   think, 


98  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

either,  that  there  are  no  compensations  in  this  sometimes 
diflficult  hfe  we  lead.  My  doll  did  leak  sawdust,  I  know, 
when  we  first  tried  to  make  a  home  here;  but  time  and 
custom  help  to  smooth  out  the  wrinkles,  and  we  are 
really  enjoying  some  of  the  Oriental  customs.  We  have 
a  friendly  Army  folk  to  know,  stirring  martial  music  to 
hear,  rainbows  every  day,  and  a  pink  moon  at  night; 
and  last  night,  after  a  shower,  the  full  moon  shone  glori- 
ously and  we  had  a  perfect  moon-bow — a  lovely  colored 
arch,  which  spanned  the  sky.  We  live  virtually  in  the 
open,  and  are  on  intimate  terms  with  sun,  moon,  stars, 
clouds,  and  rain.  They  are  wholesome  companions,  and 
association  with  them  helps  the  soul  to  find  its  wings. 

We  have  organized  a  reading  club,  which  meets  at  the 
house  of  each  member  in  turn.  One  of  the  ladies  reads, 
the  book  being  chosen  by  vote.  A  cooling  beverage  is 
served,  but  no  other  refreshments.  One  of  the  husbands 
innocently,  but  efifectively,  broke  up  the  last  meeting  by 
sending  the  Indian  peddler  to  the  house  where  the  reading 
club  was  in  full  swing.  We  all  adjourned  to  the  front 
steps,  where  so  many  customers  at  once  was  at  first 
pleasing  to  the  peddler,  until  we  all  began  asking  prices 
at  the  same  time,  when  he  threw  up  his  hands  in  despair, 
saying,  "Ladies,  you  many;  I  one  poor  Indian."  So  we 
went  to  our  houses  and  purchased  separately.  Three 
ebony  elephants  adorn  my  desk,  and  an  embroidered 
strip  of  elephant  cloth  makes  a  gay  frieze  about  the  room. 

This  week  a  troop  of  little  English  girls  from  Australia 
gave  a  "Lilliputian  Show"  in  a  room  of  the  exchange 
building,  much  to  the  delight  of  the  soldiers.     Afterward 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  99 

the  ladies  entertained  the  performers  with  a  dance  and 
plenty  of  ice  cream  and  cakes;  they  enjoyed  it,  and  were 
very  nice  in  their  thanks.  The  same  day  a  missionary 
and  his  wife  paid  a  visit  to  camp. 

Life  in  an  Army  camp  is  like  the  Last  Day,  in  that 
"nothing  shall  be  hid."  We  dined  out  last  night,  and 
this  morning  our  house-boy,  who  a  few  months  ago  came 
out  of  the  rice-fields  with  only  one  garment  (a  native 
shirt),  remarked  loftily:  "No.  5  Boy  he  wear  no  coat? 
He  wait  on  Senora  at  dinner-party  in  a  shirt?"  This 
with  the  superior  air  of  one  who  owns  and  wears  a  coat. 

In  the  mornings  the  "boys"  sometimes  work  in  pina 
or  jusi  gauze  shirts,  pale  pinks,  yellows,  and  blues  pre- 
ferred, with  printed  flowers  in  reds  or  purples.  The 
native  fabrics  are  very  pretty.  Banana-fiber  cloth  is 
made  from  the  one-year  plants.  The  stalk  is  unrolled 
and  steamed  over  boiling  water;  the  green  outer  skin  is 
then  removed  by  passing  the  stalks  through  blunt  knives, 
which  act  as  scrapers;  the  fiber  is  then  placed  in  a  cloth 
to  remove  the  moisture,  and  afterwards  cleaned  and 
twisted  into  yarn  for  weaving.  The  cloth  which  is  made 
from  the  banana  fiber  is  excellent  for  tropical  wear. 
Thousands  of  women  weave  in  their  homes  on  small 
wooden  looms,  which  have  not  varied  in  model  for  three 
hundred  years.  It  takes  a  Filipino  woman  six  weeks  to 
weave  one  pattern  of  fine  cloth. 

The  Colonel  is  studying  Japanese,  and  boasts  that  he 
can  say  all  that  is  really  necessary  to  insure  our  comfort 
in  traveling  when  we  reach  that  country.     Thus  far  it  is. 


loo  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

"  Honorable  inside  is  empty.  "     Which  only  goes  to  prove 
that  men,  like  armies,  "travel  on  their  stomachs." 


Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Phiuppine  Isi^ands, 

August,  1909. 

Here  is  the  daily  routine,  as  lived  in  this  house :  The 
Colonel  has  his  breakfast  at  5  o'clock,  going  to  drill  at  6. 
"Boy"  brings  a  tray  with  coffee  and  fruit  to  me  at  6:30; 
shower-bath  in  the  porch  bath-room;  dress  and  inspect 
the  plants;  cut  roses  from  the  only  bush;  fill  the  bowls 
with  fresh  flowers,  which  Decio  brings  in  on  a  tray ;  write 
letters,  read,  or  sew  until  i  p.  m. 

The  Colonel  comes  in  from  drill  at  10:30,  looking  as 
though  he  had  been  ducked  in  the  river.  All  his  clothing 
goes  into  the  wash,  and  a  fresh  suit  is  donned  to  go  to  the 
office  at  II  o'clock.  He  comes  back  at  i  o'clock;  we  have 
luncheon,  and  talk  over  the  morning's  news — of  which 
there  isn't  any;  go  to  our  rooms  for  the  siesta,  which  is  a 
necessity  in  the  tropics;  another  shower-bath;  and  dress 
for  dinner,  which  is  the  event  of  the  day.  All  the  officers 
wear  white  linen  uniforms  in  the  evening;  and  you  will 
readily  understand  why  two  women  wash  and  iron  six 
days  of  the  week.  We  then  walk  down  to  the  club;  chat 
with  our  friends ;  home  to  dinner  after  the  darkness  falls ; 
afterward  we  make  calls  or  sit  on  the  porch  listening  to 
the  band  concert,  which  is  played  every  evening.  If  it 
rains,  we  play  bridge  until  bed-time;  and  so  the  time 
passes. 


Hou^-e  Ben',  Philipjiiiies 
Bathing  Beach 


•3 

u 

OS 

eg 


3 

O 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  loi 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Philippine  Islands, 

September,  1909. 

What  I  feared  has  come  upon  me:  after  all  these 
months  of  looking  for  snakes,  one  has  really  appeared  and 
frightened  me  almost  into  fits.  This  morning  while  the 
Colonel  was  at  drill  I  went  into  the  little  matting  room 
to  take  a  shower,  which  is  the  only  comfortable  kind  of 
bath  in  the  tropics.  Behind  the  door,  in  a  tight  coil, 
was  a  snake — a  big,  horrible  snake.  With  a  shriek,  I 
dashed  into  the  porch  room,  with  kimono  flying  and 
slippers  flopping  on  my  speeding  feet.  There  was  not  a 
white  man  to  summon,  and  it  is  useless  to  appeal  to 
Orientals — they  are  entirely  indifferent  to  a  woman's 
fear — so  I  decided  to  wait  until  the  Colonel  came  home 
from  drill,  and  hoped  the  snake  would  wait  for  him  also. 
Hastily  finishing  dressing,  I  walked  the  porch  in  an  agony 
of  apprehension  until  the  orderly  appeared  to  take  the 
horses  back  to  the  stables.  At  the  same  moment  the 
Colonel  rode  up.  The  orderly  tossed  his  reins  to  the 
house-boy,  and,  catching  up  an  axe  which  he  found  in 
the  yard,  started  for  the  house,  followed  by  the  Colonel, 
with  his  saber.  They  soon  returned  with  the  snake, 
limp  and  dead.  It  had  eaten  several  lizards,  they  said, 
and  would  not  have  moved  very  quickly,  being  full  of 
"chow,"  while  I,  who  had  not  indulged  in  lizards,  broke 
a  world's  speed  record,  I  have  no  doubt. 

When  the  orderly  galloped  away  with  the  horses, 
Pedro  regarded  the  dead  snake  with  regretful  surprise. 


I02  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

"But,  Senora,"  he  protested,  "him  very  good  snake. 
He  eat  rats,  and  sleep  up  above  the  Senora's  room." 
Then  that  is  the  noise  the  Colonel  always  assures  me 
is  lizards ! 

I  long  to  rush  over  to  my  neighbor's  and  tell  her, 
but,  as  she  is  afraid  of  snakes  too,  I  have  decided  to  keep 
the  experience  a  secret,  although  it  seems  to  me  very 
noble  to  refrain  from  telling  so  thrilling  a  tale.  It  would 
be  cruel  to  stir  up  all  the  Army  ladies  to  renewed  terror, 
when  they  may  not  see  a  snake  while  they  are  here,  so  I 
will  hold  my  tongue.  But  I  shall  double  my  watch  for  un- 
welcome visitors,  as  you  may  believe. 

Two  ladies  from  Spain  are  visiting  the  post  and  I 
gave  a  luncheon  for  them.  It  pom-ed  rain,  but  the  house 
was  pretty,  with  traiUng  vines  and  orchids  and  the  lamps 
and  candles  Ughted.  One  of  my  guests  was  an  Army 
bride,  who  is  very  discontened  and  unwilling  to  try  to 
endure  the  hardships  of  the  Hfe  out  here.  We  are  all 
homesick;  but,  as  a  rule,  our  women  are  loyal  and  brave — 
"game,"  the  men  call  it.  We  Hstened  to  a  never-ending 
tale  of  woe  from  the  bride,  until  one  of  the  ladies  said, 
thoughtfully:  "We  all  miss  our  homes  and  dear  ones, 
of  course,  but  we  see  how  great  the  need  for  homes  is  out 
here,  to  help  our  husbands  and  show  that  we  too  can 
do  something  for  our  country."  While  my  friend  was 
speaking,  I  looked  at  the  portrait  over  my  desk  of  a 
gentle  lady  who  molded  bullets  from  spoons  in  1776,  and 
thought  that  her  spirit  still  hved  and  was  "quick  and 
potent  still." 

Last  night  we  dined  with  a  young  officer  and  his  bride. 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  103 

The  usual  long-tailed  rats  made  merry  in  the  rafters, 
while  a  nest  of  white  ants  which  flourishes  under  the 
house  crawled  over  the  floor,  despite  the  copious  baths 
of  coal-oil  and  boihng  water  with  which  the  boards  are 
treated.  They  soon  took  possession  of  us;  and  a  httle 
cat,  which  was  frightened  by  the  antics  of  the  rats, 
jumped  into  our  laps  for  protection — what  you  might  call 
an  "animalated"  scene.  The  usual  deluge  descended, 
and  the  house,  which  is  the  least  habitable  in  the  post, 
fairly  tipped  from  side  to  side  in  the  wind.  But  I  cannot 
quarrel  with  the  dear  rain.  We  have  had  a  week  of  hot, 
dry  weather  and  skies  of  burning  brass,  and  it  tempers 
the  sunshine  and  makes  it  endurable. 

Here  is  Ah  Yan  to  light  the  candles.  No  coohng 
breeze  comes  with  the  early  night,  for  the  wind  dies  after 
sunset.  In  the  west  is  a  great  glow  of  gold,  such  as  one 
sees  only  in  the  tropics;  suddenly  the  stars  come  out, 
and  it  is  night.  The  servants  patter  in  and  out,  lighting 
the  lanterns;  natives  shuffle  along  the  back  road;  and  a 
wistful  voice  from  next  door  (a  little  Filipino  nurse) 
calls  softly,  "Buenos  noches,  Decio."  A  soldier  steps  out 
of  the  guard-house,  across  the  shadowy  parade-ground, 
and,  putting  a  trumpet  to  his  Ups,  blows  the  soldiers' 
supper-call.  The  sharp,  high  notes  of  the  bugle  seem  to 
say  the  words  the  soldiers  have  put  to  that  call : 

"Soup-ee,  soup-ee,  without  any  beans, 
Coff-ee,  coff-ee,  without  any  cream, 
Pork-ee,  pork-ee,  without  a  strip  of  lean." 


104  -(^n  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Annex  to  the  Army  and  Navy  Club, 
Manila,  Philippine  Islands, 

September,  1909. 

Oiir  "pleasure  exertion"  begins  on  Sunday,  when  we 
sail  for  Japan  on  the  Buford,  which  is  an  old  tub  and 
rolls  like  a  barrel.  At  camp  our  bungalow  is  stripped  of 
hangings,  mats,  and  ctutains.  Everything  is  packed,  the 
house  is  closed,  and  pussy  is  staying  with  our  neighbor, 
who  loves  cats,  while  we  are  away. 

I  am  enjoying  this  splendid  old  building,  which  was 
built  by  the  Spaniards  centiuies  ago  for  a  priest-house, 
and  was  once  inhabited  by  the  Franciscans.  When  the 
Americans  took  possession  of  Manila,  the  church  rented 
it  to  the  Army  and  Navy  Club.  Both  the  club  and  the 
chiwch  are  across  the  street,  which  was  once  spanned  by  a 
bridge,  connecting  the  priest-house  with  the  church ;  that 
was  removed,  however,  when  the  club  rented  the  building. 

There  are  many  large  rooms,  and  the  stucco  walls 
are  streaked  and  stained.  The  ground-floor  was  origin- 
ally a  stable.  Down  in  the  open  court  is  a  stone  watering- 
trough  and  an  immense  cistern,  over  which,  from  an  arch, 
hangs  a  bell,  which  once  called  the  good  fathers  to  their 
prayers;  now  it  is  green  with  mold.  The  outside  doors, 
which  open  on  the  Street  of  the  Palace,  are  so  heavy  and 
thick  it  would  take  the  fire  of  artillery  or  a  battering- 
ram  to  break  them  in.  All  of  the  first-floor  windows  have 
iron  gratings. 

Our  room  is  up  a  flight  of  stone  stairs.  It  is  narrow 
and  bare,  and  contains  two  mahogany  four-f)osters,  which 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  105 

are,  if  I  may  say  so,  infernal  sleeping-machimes ;  the  pol- 
ished floor  is  no  harder.  Our  shower-bath  is  a  little  room 
that  was  once  an  oratory. 

At  5  o'clock  this  morning  I  leaned  on  the  balcony  rail- 
ing and  admired  the  soft  colorings  of  these  old  walls — 
green,  red,  yellow,  and  gray,  blended  by  time  to  a  gentle 
harmony.  Hundreds  of  sharp-billed  birds  twittered  in 
the  vines  which  drape  the  walls;  over  in  the  church  a 
light  burned  before  an  altar;  below,  the  street  is  so 
narrow  that  three  people,  with  arms  outstretched,  could 
span  the  distance. 

The  front  doors  of  the  church  across  the  street  swing 
open;  the  crowd  of  morning  worshipers  swarm  out  to  a 
crash  of  music;  while  I  am  gazing  down  into  an  old 
garden,  surrounded  by  this  great  house — a  garden  that  is 
trying  to  be  American,  but  at  heart  is  FiUpino. 

Adios  until  I  write  you  from  Lotus  Land. 


io6  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 


VII. 
A  HOLIDAY  IN  JAPAN. 
On  Board  S.  S.  — 


September,  1909. 

We  are  tied  up  at  the  pier  on  Mariveles  Island,  only 
four  hours'  sail  from  Manila,  as  the  soldiers'  baggage 
must  be  fumigated  before  we  can  go  on  to  Japan. 

This  picturesque  island  has  a  tragic  history.  Over 
three  hundred  years  ago,  so  the  legend  runs,  a  priest 
eloped  with  a  beautiful  Mexican  girl,  sailing  away  from 
Manila  in  an  open  boat,  which  was  blown  to  this  un- 
friendly shore.  While  her  companion  was  seeking  food 
and  shelter,  poor  Marie  Velez  was  killed  by  the  savages 
who  were  at  that  time  the  only  inhabitants.  This  un- 
happy event  is  commemorated  in  the  name  of  the  island. 
The  priest,  also,  was  soon  murdered  by  the  savages,  and  a 
near-by  island  is  called  for  him  "The  Friar." 

We  walked  through  the  town — a  collection  of  nipa 
shacks,  with  the  same  type  of  inhabitants  we  have  lived 
among  in  Luzon ;  and  also  visited  the  United  States  hos- 
pital, where  we  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  a  salt-water  bath. 

To-morrow  we  sail  for  Japan  with  a  clean  bill  of  health. 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  107 

Shimonoseki,  Japan, 
September,  1909. 

We  were  reckoned  first-class  sailors  until  we  encoun- 
tered a  "beam  sea"  a  few  miles  from  Formosa,  which 
laid  all  the  passengers  low.  I  can  never  look  a  can  of 
Formosa  tea  calmly  in  the  lid  again.  A  typhoon  rolled 
and  pitched  us  into  Nagasaki  Bay  in  a  downpour  of  rain. 
Hundreds  of  little  sampans  bobbed  about  our  boat,  and 
through  the  fog  and  rain  we  could  see  green  hills,  dotted 
with  many  graves  and  tiny  houses  and  spaced  with 
well-kept  gardens. 

Four  Japanese  officials,  wearing  European  clothes 
many  sizes  too  large  for  them,  and  spectacles,  counted  us 
over  twice  to  be  sure,  and  a  launch  flying  the  American 
flag  came  alongside  and  took  us  and  our  baggage  ashore. 
Some  of  the  Army  folks  preferred  trying  a  sampan  rowed 
by  a  Japanese  woman,  who  wore  a  blue  kimono  and  a 
blue-and-white  towel  tied  about  her  head.  A  baby  was 
strapped  on  her  back,  but  it  did  not  seem  to  interfere 
with  business. 

We  walked  the  half  block  to  the  custom-house,  fol- 
lowed by  protesting  rickshaw-men.  A  Japanese  in- 
spector asked  politely  if  we  smoked,  and,  finding  no 
tobacco  in  om*  satchels,  bowed  us  out  with  much  ceremony 

The  first  ride  in  a  rickshaw  was  disappointing.  I  felt 
like  a  cross  baby  that  had  lost  its  rattle  in  an  over-grown 
baby-buggy.  We  were  suddenly  dumped  at  the  foot  of  a 
steep,  paved  hill  to  pick  our  way  up  the  mossy  stones  to 
the  hotel.     At  the  top  we  followed  a  muddy  path  through 


io8  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

a  tiny  garden  to  a  room  where  fifty  or  more  people  from 
all  parts  of  the  world  were  at  tiffin.  We  had  curry  and 
rice,  with  several  kinds  of  fish  and  fruit;  but,  as  we  are 
not  yet  educated  to  Japanese  cooking,  we  left  the  table 
still  hungry. 

The  hotel  in  Nagasaki  is  a  comfortless  place.  Our 
room  was  small,  and  the  bed  very  hard. 

A  Chinese  tailor  came  at  noon  to  take  the  measure- 
ments for  a  pair  of  trousers  for  the  Colonel,  and  in  less 
than  two  hours  the  garment  was  delivered,  and  very 
satisfactorily  made,  too. 

I  was  still  too  uncomfortable  to  think  of  smiling, 
when  a  fat  boy  appeared  in  the  doorway,  bowing  as  he 
approached  us,  and  handed  the  Colonel  a  bundle  of  pur- 
chases he  had  made.  This  messenger  wore  a  kimono  with 
a  flight  of  white  birds  printed  on  a  blue  ground,  and 
straw  sandals.  He  was  so  cute  and  so  polite,  bowing  and 
bobbing  delightedly,  that  Japan  began  to  fascinate  us 
then  and  there. 

One  good  thing  I  can  say  of  the  hotel  in  Nagasaki: 
the  view  from  the  balcony  is  beautiful.  At  night  we 
looked  out  over  the  harbor,  twinkling  with  the  lights  on 
hundreds  of  boats;  and  the  early  morning  revealed  the 
gray  tiled  roofs  of  the  houses  hugging  the  green  hillsides. 
Japanese  women  toddled  past,  intent  upon  their  morning 
tasks. 

We  packed  early,  and  started  for  Shimonoseki  at  8 
o'clock.  This  time  riding  in  a  richskaw  was  wholly  a 
pleasure,  and  we  bowled  along  happily  to  the  station,  the 
bow-legged  coolies  trotting  briskly,  like  kindly  ponies. 


1 


Lavanderas  (Washerwomen)  Coming  to  Work,  Camp  S,  Philippines 
U.  S.  Army  Transportation,  Camjj  Stotsenburg,  Philippines 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  109 

In  our  party  is  a  small  boy,  whose  red  hair  proved 
to  be  an  object  of  great  interest  to  the  Japanese,  who  had 
evidently  never  seen  hair  of  that  color  before — in  fact,  he 
created  a  sensation.  At  every  station  a  crowd  of  smiling 
natives  gathered  at  the  car  windows  to  admire  the  child's 
hair,  and  the  conductor,  bowing  low  to  the  mother,  would 
borrow  the  boy's  Teddy  bear  to  show  to  the  crowd,  who 
looked  at  it  with  amazement  and,  when  the  bear  was 
made  to  growl,  with  evident  alarm.  It  was  amusing 
during  the  daytime,  but  it  became  something  of  a  burden 
to  the  boy's  mother  to  be  awakened  often  during  the 
night  and  asked  for  the  loan  of  the  Teddy  bear. 

Strangely  enough,  the  people  at  the  stations  seemed 
equally  interested  in  me.  Like  Dickens'  fat  boy,  I  began 
to  "swell  wisably"  with  pride  until  a  girl  at  a  tea-house 
solved  the  riddle  by  pointing  to  my  flower-laden  hat, 
saying  in  English,  "Flowers  are  beautiful — yes?" 

All  day  the  passing  landscape,  seen  from  the  car  win- 
dows, was  like  a  colored  photograph  of  Japan.  It  is  ex- 
actly like  the  pictures.  Green  rice-fields,  twisted  fir- 
trees,  gray  temples,  and  red  torii — the  decorated  gate- 
ways of  Japan — unrolled  before  us,  a  delightful  moving- 
picture  show. 

As  there  was  no  dining-car  on  the  train,  a  dainty 
luncheon  was  put  up  for  us  in  baskets  at  the  hotel.  Later 
we  bought  native  food  in  white  wooden  boxes — snowy 
rice  and  pickled  fish,  with  a  pair  of  chop-sticks  to  eat 
it  with. 

A  Japanese  gentleman  opposite  us  sat  comfortably  on 
his  feet,   reading  a  book.     His  striped   gray-and -white 


no  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

kimono  was  of  fine  silk,  and  he  wore  white  stockings  and 
sandals,  which  he  changed  for  slippers  furnished  by  the 
railroad  company.  The  conductor  distributes  the  slip- 
pers with  an  obeisance  to  every  passenger.  After  a  time 
our  fellow-traveler  opened  a  straw  satchel  and,  taking  out 
a  box,  offered  us  handfuls  of  large  chestnuts.  The  Colonel 
tried  to  talk  with  him,  but,  smiling  and  bowing  elab- 
orately, he  said,  "No  English  speak." 

At  Moji  the  manager  of  the  hotel  in  Shimonoseki, 
which  is  across  the  straits  from  Moji,  met  and  conducted 
us  to  the  ferry.  He  had  lived  seven  years  in  America, 
and  spoke  good  "United  States."  All  of  our  hand- 
luggage  was  pointed  out  to  the  red-capped  hotel  porters 
and  was  found  in  our  rooms  when  we  arrived. 

Crossing  the  straits,  we  sat  at  the  front  of  the  boat  and 
had  an  excellent  view  of  the  harbor,  with  ships  of  all 
nations  lying  at  anchor.  It  was  sunset,  and  the  light  on 
water  and  hills  was  glorious. 

The  Sanyo  Hotel  at  the  landing-place  is  a  comfortable 
modem  house,  furnished  in  European  style,  with  one  of 
the  best  bath-rooms  in  Japan.  The  tub  is  sunk  into  the 
floor  of  a  room  of  colored  marble.  It  was  filled  with 
boiling  water,  which  a  dainty  little  maid  was  tempering 
to  the  shorn  lambs  to  prevent  parboiling. 

At  dinner  the  menu  was  printed  in  EngHsh,  with  each 
dish  numbered.  We  decided  that  the  safest  way  was  to 
order  by  mmiber,  and  pointed  to  No.  i  on  the  card.  Our 
waitress,  resplendent  in  a  pale-blue  kimono  figured  with 
brilliantly  colored  butterflies,  her  hair  fastened  with  red- 
topped  pins  and  a  bunch  of  flowers  over  each  ear,  giggled 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  iii 

and  said,  "Ha!"  She  shuffled  away,  and  returned  tri- 
umphantly with  cake!  We  had  hoped  for  soup.  Then 
we  tried  Nos.  5  and  6;  more  bowing  and  giggling;  this 
time  we  drew  fruit  and  rice.  We  ate  through  the  num- 
bers as  far  as  10,  and  left,  amused,  but  still  hungry. 

The  moon  was  full,  and  we  rode  down  the  one  long 
street  of  Shimonoseki,  the  coolies  pulling  us  along  at  a 
trot,  the  crowd  pointing  at  us  good-humoredly.  We  stop- 
ped at  a  small  open-front  shop  to  buy  a  straw  trunk  to 
carry  hand-luggage,  and  were  instantly  surrounded  by  a 
polite  but  curious  crowd,  who  wished  to  watch  us  make  our 
purchase.  By  pointing,  our  wants  were  made  known,  and 
the  shop-woman  made  us  understand  the  price  by  taking 
from  a  lacquered  box  the  amount  of  money  we  were  to 
pay  in  Japanese  coins.  By  this  time  it  seemed  as  though 
the  whole  town  had  turned  out  to  witness  the  transaction, 
and  we  edged  our  way  through  the  crowd  to  the  rickshaw 
and  back  to  the  hotel. 

To-morrow  we  go  to  Miyajima,  the  sacred  island, 
which  is  one  of  the  three  great  sights  of  Japan.  The  sta- 
tion of  Miyajima  is  five  hours  from  here  by  train,  and 
from  there  we  are  to  take  passage  in  sampans  across  the 
Inland  Sea  to  the  sacred  island. 


Miyajima,  Japan,  September,  1909. 

Late  yesterday  we  crossed  the  strip  of  sea  in  the 

sunset  glow.     Two  Japanese  boatmen  paddled  us  in  a 

sampan    to    Miyajima.     Both    of    these    oarsmen    wore 

thigh-bands  and  loose,  short  coats  of  blue  cotton.     Their 


112  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

arms  and  legs  were  bare.  Through  a  yellow  haze  the 
sampans  bobbed.  A  fleet  of  ships,  radiantly  dreamlike 
in  the  level  light,  lay  at  anchor,  and  on  the  shore  villages, 
temples,  castles,  stone  lanterns,  and  torii  gleamed  against 
a  background  of  purple  and  gold  mountains.  On  the 
beach  the  manager  of  the  hotel  bowed  low  in  welcome, 
and  two  Httle  maids  courtesied  to  the  ground. 

We  followed  one  of  the  little  maidens  up  a  fern- 
covered  way  to  the  side  of  the  mountain,  choosing  to  stay 
in  a  native  doll's  house,  which  seemed  made  of  paper  and 
toothpicks,  rather  than  at  the  hotel.  Our  pretty  little 
guide  has  us  in  charge  and  will  be  our  servant  while  we 
are  here.  She  pulls  open  the  entire  side  of  the  house, 
courtesying  gracefully  the  while,  and  appears  with  a  tray 
of  fragrant  tea  and  dehcious  cakes.  We  sit  on  straw 
cushions  on  the  tiny  porch,  the  Colonel's  long  legs  nearly 
filling  the  whole  space  allotted  to  us.  If  we  lean  against 
the  wall,  we  are  morally  certain  otn  home  will  topple  over 
and  roll  down  the  ferny  hill  into  the  brook  that  gurgles 
below.  But  it  is  surprisingly  comfortable  and  amusing. 
We  feel  Uke  dolls,  and  expect  some  giant  to  appear  and 
take  us  out  to  play. 

For  our  meals  we  walk  down  a  moss-grown  path  to  the 
main  building,  where  the  office  and  dining-rooms  are. 
A  table  on  the  low  porch  is  assigned  to  us.  Flowering 
vines  shut  us  in,  and  bright  paper  lanterns  blow  gently 
to  and  fro  over  the  tables.  Here,  too,  we  order  our  food 
by  number — fish,  lobsters,  shrimps,  chicken,  rice-cakes, 
and  fruit. 

As  we  dine  we  hear  the  wailing  pipe  of  an  old  blind 


p=i 


a 
'S, 
.2* 

I 

Id 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  113 

man  as  he  walks  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  tapping  with 
his  cane,  which  he  holds  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  a 
lantern,  carried  low — a  "lamp  unto  the  feet." 

No  one  may  die  here  and  no  one  may  be  boin  here, 
and  at  one  time  no  woman  was  allowed  to  set  foot  on  the 
island,  though  it  is  dedicated  to  a  female  deity.  "There 
is  no  death,  neither  any  sighing,  for  the  former  things 
have  passed  a,way." 

The  temple  and  stone  torii  are  built  out  into  the  wa- 
ter; rows  of  stone  lanterns  mark  a  tree-shaded  walk; 
sacred  deer  come  near  to  feed  out  of  our  hands;  doves 
light  on  our  shoulders  and  take  seeds  from  our  lips.  It 
is  like  Heaven  on  earth. 

At  daybreak  this  morning  I  wakened,  and  stealing 
softly  to  the  wooden  blind,  pushed  it  aside  and  sat  on  the 
floor  of  our  little  porch.  The  sun  came  up,  lighting  the 
temples  on  the  water;  the  birds  sang  joyfully;  the  ferns 
and  flowers  nodded;  and  a  sense  of  uplift  and  well-being 
filled  my  heart.  In  that  magic  hour  all  the  sorrows  of  the 
world  were  wiped  away. 

Up  in  the  Hall  of  a  Thousand  Mats  we  have  nailed 
a  small  white-pine  paddle,  on  which  are  written  the 
names  of  those  who  are  most  dear  to  us.  It  is  a  prayer 
to  the  gods  for  health  and  happiness,  and  the  fact  that  it 
costs  only  two  sen  does  not  diminish  its  efficacy. 


Kioto,  Japan,  September,  1909. 
We  left  our  dear  sacred  island  with  regret,  and  came 
to  this  distinctively  Japanese  city,  arriving  at  2  o'clock 


114  -^w  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

in  the  morning.  In  the  only  carriage  in  Kioto,  which 
seemed  to  fill  the  narrow  street,  we  made  our  way  to  the 
hotel.  Nobody  seemed  to  be  about  at  that  hour,  and  the 
streets  were  unlighted,  except  for  an  occasional  lantern. 

This  hotel  is  a  large  European  building  and,  after  the 
toy-house  we  have  been  living  in,  seems  a  mammoth 
place.  At  the  top  of  the  staircase  the  manager,  the  maids, 
and  bell-boys,  all  in  native  dress,  welcomed  us  with  obeis- 
ances. One  feels  so  grand,  almost  royal,  being  bowed 
into  a  hotel  in  the  middle  of  the  night  and  shown  to  rooms 
by  the  manager. 

Kioto  is  so  full  of  beauty  and  interest  that  I  cannot 
begin  to  tell  it  all,  and  must  be  content  with  writing  about 
the  things  that  impressed  themselves  most  deeply  upon 
our  minds.  Armed  with  a  letter  of  introduction,  we 
went  to  see  the  school  for  dancing,  music,  and  the  ar- 
rangement of  flowers,  where  we  were  treated  very  courte- 
ously and  shown  all  about.  The  Japanese  maiden  who 
danced  for  us  wore  white  socks,  light  sandals,  and  a  pale 
blue  kimono,  embroidered  with  pink,  white,  and  black 
birds.  As  she  moved,  an  edge  of  clear  red  showed  some- 
where about  her  dress.  This  was  a  geisha  dance — simply 
a  series  of  most  graceful  poses.  The  dancer  twirled, 
lifted,  and  lowered  a  gold-and-blue  fan  and  hid  her  pretty 
face  behind  it. 

On  mats  on  the  floor  sat  three  hideous  old  women,  as 
ugly  as  Macbeth' s  witches.  Their  hair  was  drawn  tightly 
over  their  skulls,  their  teeth  were  blackened,  and  their 
eyebrows  shaved.  They  were  dressed  in  sober  gray  silk, 
and  banged  on  banjo-like  instruments,  making  a  fearful 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  115 

din.  One  of  them  held  a  short  stick,  with  which  she 
directed  the  dancing. 

We  tiptoed  across  the  spotless,  polished  floor  to  a 
room  where  twenty  girls  were  being  taught  to  write. 
They  were  sitting  on  their  heels,  each  one  before  a  lac- 
quered tray,  on  which  were  cakes  of  India  ink  and  fine 
camel's  hair  brushes,  and  were  industriously  engaged  in 
making  endless  "wash-lists"  on  rolls  of  flowered  paper. 
The  teacher,  a  dignified  old  woman,  saluted  us  grace- 
fully, and  I  thought  it  a  good  opportunity  to  try  my 
Japanese  words,  so  at  intervals  I  said,  "Ohio,"  ''Arigato," 
and  ended  with  "Sayonara."  The  effect  was  both 
magical  and  comical,  for  the  whole  school  rose  as  one 
maiden  and,  comtesying  to  the  floor,  murmtured  "Sa- 
yonara"  in  sweet- toned  chorus.  I  departed  with  a 
haughty  feeling — as  one  who  speaks  the  language  of 
the  people. 

The  castle  and  palace,  which  we  had  pyermits  to  see, 
gave  us  an  excellent  idea  of  the  grandetu*  of  a  by-gone  age. 

We  have  been  much  interested  in  the  silk  industry, 
which  one  may  see  at  all  stages,  from  the  silkworms 
feeding  on  mulberry  leaves  to  the  rich  brocades  at  the 
factories.  The  manufacture  of  cloisonne,  lacquer,  and 
porcelain  is  quite  wonderful  to  look  at  and  more  inter- 
esting to  me  than  the  Emperor's  palace.  We  have 
bought  lovely  things  in  the  shops,  too — embroidered  ki- 
monos, silks  that  stand  alone,  and  screens  of  such  cun- 
ning needlework  that  you  would  think  them  paintings 
of  Japan. 

Yesterday  we  drank  tea  in  a  golden  pavilion,  where 


ii6  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

we  were  served  by  a  temple  priest — tea  like  cream  of  pea 
soup,  stired  to  a  foam  with  a  bamboo  whisk  by  the 
kindly  priest.  At  the  Temple  of  Chouen  we  saw  an 
enormous  coil  of  rope,  made  from  the  hair  of  the  women 
who  presented  it;  and  we  rang  the  bell,  the  soft  boom  of 
which,  rolling  away  in  waves  of  sound,  can  be  heard  all 
over  the  city.  A  confusion  of  kneeling  priests  and 
chanting  pilgrims,  a  murmur  of  many  prayers,  the  clatter 
of  wooden  shoes,  and  the  clanging  of  the  temple  gong — 
these  are  to  be  found  in  all  the  temples  of  Kioto. 
To-morrow  we  leave  for  Yokohama. 

HoTEi.  Fuji,  Miyanoshita,  Japan, 

September,  1909. 

This  hotel,  which  is  built  on  top  of  a  high  mountain, 
is  said  to  be  the  finest  in  Japan.  Miyanoshita  is  a  noted 
summer  resort  for  foreigners,  as  well  as  for  the  Japanese, 
because  of  its  beautiful  scenery,  fine  mineral  and  hot 
springs,  and  air  like  sparkling  wine.  Our  being  here  is 
due  to  a  happy  accident. 

We  started  from  Kioto  on  an  early  morning  train, 
the  two  friends  who  were  with  us  traveling  second  class. 
They  jeered  at  us  for  our  extravagance  in  going  first  class, 
and,  indeed,  we  were  visiting  in  their  compartment  most 
of  the  way,  and  could  see  no  difference,  except  in  the 
price.  From  the  train  we  caught  our  first  glimpse  of  Fui 
Mountain,  a  great  pink  cone  floating  above  the  clouds. 

There  were  four  Japanese  passengers  in  the  car  with 
us;  one  pretty  girl,  whom  we  imagined  to  be  the  bride 


a, 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  117 

of  an  elderly  Japanese  man  who  accompanied  her,  sat  in 
her  stockinged  feet,  looking  very  comfortable  in  her  loose 
kimono.  Several  times  dm^ing  the  jomney  she  took  from 
her  sash-band  an  embroidered  case,  which  held  a  mirror 
and  several  pencils  for  beautifying  the  face,  and  calmly 
put  the  red  to  her  lips  and  cheeks  and  daubed  black  lines 
to  her  eyebrows,  which  gave  them  an  unexpected  upward 
curve. 

Suddenly  the  train  stopped,  and  a  porter  began  to 
take  our  luggage  out  through  the  car  window.  It  was 
after  dark,  but  we  felt  sure  we  had  not  yet  reached  Yoko- 
hama. Not  a  trainman  was  in  sight.  After  you  pass 
the  wicket  gate  in  the  station,  the  railroad  company  evi- 
dently washes  its  hands  of  you  until  you  pass  the  wicket 
in  some  other  station ;  then  they  look  at  yotu*  ticket  and 
set  you  right.  They  seem  never  to  think  of  the  possi- 
bility that  anybody  might  get  off  at  the  wrong  station. 
What  would  happen,  I  wonder?  One  would  simply  wait 
for  the  next  train  with  the  utmost  patience  and  good 
humor,  I  suppose,  for  nobody  gets  angry  in  Japan.  It 
is  the  custom  of  the  country  to  smile  at  everything  and 
everybody. 

Presently  the  Japanese  passengers  gathered  up  their 
packages  and  made  ready  to  leave,  and  we  realized  that 
the  train  was  not  going  any  farther.  The  Colonel  went 
to  find  our  friends,  and  I  tried  to  open  communication 
with  the  passengers,  asking  the  lady  if  she  spoke  English. 
She  smiled  and  bowed,  but  said  nothing.  The  same 
question  put  to  the  men  produced  better  results,  and  one 


ii8  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

said,  "I  speak  the  English,"  and  explained  that  we  were 
in  a  washout  and  stranded  somewhere  near  Yokohama. 

We  stepped  out  upon  the  platform,  which  was  lighted 
by  a  single  swinging  lantern.  A  small  hamlet  nestled 
against  the  side  of  a  great  mountain,  and  the  English 
speaker  pointed  to  the  dark  summit,  where,  he  said,  his 
inn  would  take  care  of  us,  as  no  trains  could  go  through 
to  Yokohama  until  the  next  day.  When  we  found  that 
it  was  two  and  a  half  hours  by  rickshaw  up  the  mountain, 
we  flatly  refused  to  patronize  his  inn.  With  heavenly 
patience,  the  proprietor  endeavored  to  convey  some 
enlightening  idea,  and  the  Colonel,  catching  the  words 
"Fuji  Inn,"  demanded  if  his  "humble  tavern"  might  be 
the  famous  Miyanoshita  Hotel — as,  indeed,  it  was.  We 
all  clamored  with  one  voice,  "Take  us  to  the  Fuji  Hotel!" 
Of  all  the  good  luck  in  the  world,  to  be  stranded,  if  such 
a  mishap  had  to  occur,  at  the  station  for  the  great  summer 
resort  of  Miyanoshita! 

We  took  a  miniature  electric  tram-car,  which  pulled 
us  half  way  up  the  canon  to  a  tea-house,  from  which  we 
were  to  travel  by  rickshaws  to  the  top. 

It  was  dark  under  the  big  trees,  even  with  a  full  moon 
that  lighted  patches  of  the  glorious  scenery.  At  the 
tea-house  there  was  a  rickshaw-stand,  with  many  ve- 
hicles and  coolies,  who  sat  on  the  grotmd  smoking  their 
pif)es  while  they  waited  for  patrons.  Five  rickshaws  and 
ten  coolies  had  been  wired  for  to  take  us  to  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  and  we  stood  for  a  while  on  the  platform, 
waiting  to  be  claimed.  As  there  was  no  demand  for  us, 
we  ladies  climbed  into  the  rickshaws,  much  against  the 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  119 

will  of  the  coolies,  who  jabbered  and  protested  vocifer- 
ously. Something  was  the  matter;  that  was  plain.  As 
the  discussion  waxed  hotter,  we  burst  out  laughing,  the 
men  joined  in,  and,  to  our  stu-prise,  the  chairmen  left  off 
quarreling  and  laughed  with  the  rest.  Perhaps  we  should 
have  been  sitting  there  still  if  a  maid  from  the  inn  had 
not  appeared  upon  the  scene,  saying  in  EngUsh,  "Good 
evening."  She  explained  that  the  men  wanted  an  extra 
rickshaw  for  our  luggage,  which  they  seemed  to  think  we 
intended  to  carry  in  our  laps — as  though  it  was  not  all  we 
could  do  to  hold  ourselves  in,  let  alone  oiu-  bags  and 
hampers !  Thanks  to  the  maiden,  we  were  loaded  up  and 
started  off  in  single  file,  making  an  imposing  procession, 
up,  up  in  the  dark,  cool  night.  After  two  hours,  we  were 
happy  to  climb  out  and  make  oiu:  way  afoot  up  to  the 
hotel,  which  was  all  alight  and  gay  with  music  and  many 
people. 

We  have  a  dream  of  a  room,  with  five  windows,  from 
which  we  look  down  into  the  valley  and  up  to  the  summit 
of  the  moimtain,  where  a  tea-house  is  perched.  Great 
red  torii  mark  a  path  leading  to  an  image  of  Buddha 
carved  in  the  side  of  a  gray  rock. 

The  narrow  street  of  the  town  is  bordered  with  oi>en- 
front  shops  filled  with  the  carved  woodenware  for  which 
this  place  is  famous,  and  fiu:  robes,  muffs,  collars,  and 
slippers,  made  from  the  skins  of  mountain  animals,  beau- 
tiful and  very  cheap.  An  old  woman  at  the  tea-house 
sold  me  the  brass  hibachi  over  which  she  had  boiled  the 
tea-kettle;  and  we  made  a  comical  procession  returning 
to  the  hotel  with  a  cart  full  of  wodenware,  furs,  and  the 


I20  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

hibachi,  still  full  of  hot  coals,  A  delectable,  fat  teapot 
swung  from  my  hand.  I  do  not  know  what  the  staid 
EngUsh  guests  at  the  hotel  thought  of  us. 

There  are  natural  hot  springs  here,  and  the  water  is 
piped  into  the  hotel  for  heahng  baths.  It  is  the  most 
restful  place;  but  we  must  descend  from  our  mountain- 
top  to-morrow  and  go  on  to  Yokohama. 

Hotel  Pleasantson, 
Yokohama,  Japan,  October,  1909. 

From  our  windows  in  the  hotel  we  can  see  directly 
into  a  Japanese  home — several  second-story  rooms  over  a 
shop,  where  the  father  of  the  family  makes  and  sells 
shoes;  and  I  am  obUged  to  confess  that  I  have  shame- 
lessly looked  on  at  the  fascinating  and  unconscious  doings 
of  the  little  household.  The  family  consists  of  the  shoe- 
maker, his  wife,  and  Uttle  boy,  and  this  afternoon  they 
have  been  receiving  visitors — two  men,  one  woman,  a 
child  of  three  or  so,  and  a  boy  perhaps  ten  years  old. 
They  all  sat  on  their  heels  in  a  circle  on  the  floor  before 
tiny,  lacquered  tables,  on  which  interesting-looking  bowls 
were  set.  On  the  floor  near  each  j>erson  was  spread  a 
paper  napkin,  on  which  small  cakes  were  arranged.  All 
the  guests  touched  their  foreheads  to  the  floor — even  the 
baby,  who  was  so  fat  it  was  a  mystery  how  he  kept  from 
rolling  into  the  midst  of  things;  then  they  arose  and  went 
into  the  hall,  sUpping  their  feet  into  straw  sandals,  and 
returned,  bowing  ceremoniously  to  one  another. 

The  children  were  the  best  little  things;  they  did  not 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  121 

so  much  as  touch  one  of  the  cakes  spread  so  temptingly 
within  their  reach.  Presently  the  host  gave  some  sweet- 
meats, wrapped  in  a  napkin,  to  the  baby,  who  promptly 
went  down  in  a  beautiful  obeisance — a  comical  sight, 
with  his  shaved  little  head,  leaving  scalp-lock,  red-and- 
white  kimono,  and  chubby  legs  in  red  socks.  After  tea 
was  finished,  a  young  girl  removed  the  tables,  cushions, 
and  tea-tray,  leaving  the  floor  bare,  as  there  is  no  furniture 
in  the  room. 

At  10  o'clock  I  peei>ed  again.  All  was  ready  for  the 
night.  The  floor  was  covered  with  straw  mats,  with  stiff 
rolls  on  wooden  stands  for  pillows,  and  with  wadded 
quilts  for  covering.  It  must  be  nice  to  have  the  beds 
come  to  you,  instead  of  having  to  go  to  the  beds.  How 
many  American  children  would  escape  a  scolding  when 
bedtime  comes  and  they  are  loth  to  go  if  we  employed 
this  simple  Japanese  method!  But  I  fancy  Oriental  in- 
fants always  do  as  they  are  told,  for  manners  in  this 
country,  both  with  young  and  old,  seem  never  to  fray, 
even  at  the  edges,  let  alone  give  out.  Japan  wears  her 
"Sunday  manners"  every  day  of  the  week. 

Living  is  very  easy  for  travelers.  All  we  are  expected 
to  do  is  to  breathe,  and  the  hotel  management  "does  the 
rest."  To  be  sure,  it  will  all  come  in,  signed  on  chits,  with 
the  bill,  but  the  bills  are  miraculously  small. 

To-day  it  rained  steadily  and  sullenly,  but  we  went 
out  just  the  same,  sj>ending  the  day  in  rickshaws,  which 
are  comfortable  and  cheap.  On  rainy  days  the  coolies 
cover  each  rickshaw  with  a  piece  of  oiled  paper,  which 
hooks  half  way  across  the  vehicle.     My  chairman,  bare 


122  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

of  foot  and  leg,  with  bits  of  rag  tied  about  his  big  toes, 
wore  a  comical  cape  of  straw  and  an  apron  of  the  same, 
which  shed  the  water  like  a  duck's  back — an  effective 
rain-coat.  His  basket-shaped  hat,  too,  shed  the  rain  in 
trickling  streams. 

We  proceeded  in  single  file — the  "most  honorable" 
first — around  Mississippi  Bay,  and  noted  with  patriotic 
pride  the  spot  where  Admiral  Perry  anchored  in  1858  and 
awaited  an  answer  to  his  letter  from  the  powers  of  Japan. 
The  cooHes  pointed  to  the  place,  and  at  a  tree  which 
General  Grant  planted,  with  an  expression  of  countenance 
which  meant,  "There,  now,  you  Americans  can  celebrate." 

Presently  the  sim  came  out,  and  we  stopped  at  a  tea- 
house, first  giving  the  cooHes  tea-money,  which  they 
promptly  spyent  for  a  smoke,  joining  a  group  of  waiting 
chairmen,  all  sitting  on  their  heels  and  chattering  like 
magpies. 

A  girl  brought  a  tray  of  egg-shell  cups,  a  pot  of  tea,  a 
red  lacquered  bowl  of  cake  and  another  of  fruit,  and, 
holding  out  a  thimble-sized  bowl  of  sugar,  said  archly, 
"You  like?"  Oh,  yes,  of  course  the  Colonel  "liked." 
He  took  all  the  sugar  and  smiled  back,  whUe  I  discreetly 
looked  out  across  the  bay ;  for  who  would  have  a  husband 
who  would  not  smile  at  such  a  dainty  maid?  From  a  toy 
garden  Httle  "You  Like"  picked  a  rose  and  a  fern-leaf, 
tied  them  together  with  a  wisp  of  straw,  and  presented 
them  to  me.     All  this  costs  only  forty  sen. 

We  rode  back  along  the  narrow  street,  facing  the 
canal,  and  in  the  oj>en-front  shops  bought  baskets  and 
tiny  wooden  shoes  for  a  few  pennies. 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  123 

After  dinner  a  band  of  street-dancers,  young  girls  who 
are  in  training  to  become  geisha  dancers,  gave  a  per- 
formance in  front  of  the  hotel.  They  must  learn  to  chant 
long  poems,  and  as  soon  as  they  are  familiar  with  the 
figures,  they  dance  on  the  streets.  Two  old  women 
thumped  on  samisens,  keeping  up  a  doleful,  whining 
chant,  while  the  dancers  waved  back  and  forth  like  an 
undulating  string  of  bright  beads.  One  slips  o£f  the 
string,  comes  to  the  steps,  holding  out  a  carved  tray,  into 
which  the  sen  rattle,  and  away  they  flutter. 

We  have  letters  to  an  American  lady  who  married  a 
Japanese,  and  she  has  brought  her  daughter  to  show  us 
the  city  and  assist  in  our  shopping.  This  young  girl  is 
pretty  and  bright,  and  longs  to  be  considered  an  American. 
She  wears  European  dress  very  successfully,  but  looks 
more  French  than  American.  She  does  all  the  bar- 
gaining in  Japanese,  and  under  her  care  we  have  acquired 
treasures.  One  afternoon  we  went  through  Motomachi 
under  her  guidance.  In  an  open-front  shop  we  sat  on 
cushions  on  the  floor,  while  the  proprietor,  clad  in  a 
kimono  of  price,  brought  us  boxes  of  bewilderingly  beau- 
tiful things  to  choose  from.  Such  wonders  of  embroid- 
eries, brasses,  lacquers,  and  china! 

To-morrow  we  go  to  ancient  Kamakura  to  see  the 
great  Buddha. 

I  can  now  say  "good-by"  in  five  languages,  a  word 
which  I  never  willingly  say  to  you  in  any  language. 


124  -^**  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Hotel  Pleasantson, 
Yokohama,  Japan,  October,  1909. 

We  are  making  this  comfortable  hotel  om*  headquar- 
ters, and  are  taking  little  trips  from  here.  Yokohama' 
which  is  both  European  and  Oriental,  is  divided  into 
"The  Settlement"  and  "The  Bluff,"  where  most  of  the 
foreigners  live.  The  United  States  Naval  Hospital  is  on 
"The  Bluff,"  and  we  are  to  dine  there  soon. 

The  United  States  S.  S. is  anchored  in  the 

bay,  with  Governor  and  Mrs.  D aboard,  and  to-day 

we  lunched  with  them  on  the  ship.  We  went  in  rick- 
shaws to  the  hatoba,  which  is  neither  a  breakfast-food  nor 
a  patent  medicine,  but  the  landing-place  for  small  boats 
along  the  beautiful  bund  or  water-front,  which  is  almost 
wholly  European,  lined  with  hotels,  clubs,  and  the  fine 
Legation  buildings,  and  bordered  with  splendid  trees. 
Only  the  coolies  waiting  with  their  vehicles  and  some 
small  flat- topped  trees  reminded  us  that  we  were  in  Japan. 

A  tippy  launch  took  us  to  the  ship,  which  looked  very 
far  out.  Two  English  war-ships  had  just  anchored  in  the 
bay,  and  a  salute  was  being  fired  from  the  shore  batteries 
and  returned  by  the  EngHsh  ships.  Our  launch  seemed 
directly  in  the  firing-line.  The  wives  of  the  naval  officers 
were  looking  pale  and  anxious,  so  I  did  not  feel  that  my 
fears  of  mal-de-mer  were  entirely  due  to  my  belonging  to 
the  land  forces. 

The  sailors  were  drawn  up  in  line  when  we  climbed 
the  wobbly  ladder  up  the  ship's  side,  and  saluted  the 
Colonel  punctiliously.  We  left  after  a  merry  luncheon 
party,  promising  to  meet  again  in  Nikko. 


Filipino  Women  Spinning  Thread  for  Dress  Goods 


o 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  125 

Yokohama,  Japan,  October,  1909. 

Have  I  been  dreaming?  I  should  think  so,  if  it  were 
not  for  the  reality  of  the  mustard-plasters  and  wadded 
Japanese  wrappers  with  which  I  am  swathed,  as  I  sit  here 
propped  up  in  bed  after  a  ten-days  illness.  Think  of 
spending  days  and  days  in  this  fascinating  place  done  up 
in  swaddling-clothes  and  plasters!  And  all  on  account 
of  the  lovely  trip  to  Kamakura  and  Enoshima!  The 
ladies  at  the  hotel  have  been  goodness  personified,  du- 
plicating their  bargains  for  me,  and  keeping  our  room 
filled  with  flowers. 

On  a  bright,  cool  morning  we  started  for  Kamaktua, 
an  hour's  rim  by  the  express  train.  Once  a  great  city,  it 
is  now  only  a  small  hamlet,  hugging  the  beach,  and  behind 
it  a  semi-circle  of  hills,  dotted  with  temples,  torri,  and  tea- 
houses, forms  a  picttuesque  background.  A  steep  stone 
stairway  leads  to  a  tea-garden,  which  seems  dwarfed  by 
the  great  size  of  the  Dai  Butsu,  the  colossal  statue  of 
Buddha.  Sitting  upon  a  giant  lotus-flower  of  bronze,  the 
god  looks  down  with  brooding  eyes  and  sorrowful  face 
upon  the  moving  throng  that  passes  continually  below 
his  folded  hands. 

A  procession  of  pilgrims  from  the  interior,  footsore 
and  weary,  but  with  faces  alight  with  hope  and  joy,  ap- 
proached the  shrine  as  we  watched — scores  of  men  and 
women  who  had  traveled  hundreds  of  miles  to  look  upon 
the  face  of  the  Buddha.  Holding  rosaries  in  their  up- 
raised hands  and  bearing  banners  and  emblems,  they  ap- 
proached the  shrine,  where,  clapping  their  hands  to  invite 
the  attention  of  the  god,   they  prostrated  themselves, 


126  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

praying  audibly.  The  clapping  of  hands,  the  murmur  of 
chanted  prayers,  the  clinking  of  coins  in  the  tray,  blended 
in  a  soft  storm  of  sound  like  the  soughing  of  wind  through 
forest  trees.  There  is  a  temple  inside  the  image,  and  the 
pilgrims,  in  turn,  went  in  to  pray  before  the  shrine  within. 

In  a  rough  wooden  shed  adjoining  the  Temple  of 
Hachiman,  the  god  of  war,  we  signed  our  unknown  names 
in  a  volume  large  enough  to  be  the  Judgment  Book,  and, 
guided  by  a  young  priest,  we  went  to  see  the  statue  of 
Kwannon,  goddess  of  mercy  and  pity.  Along  a  dark, 
narrow  passage  we  were  conducted  into  a  still  darker  and 
smaller  room,  where  the  priests,  lighting  candles,  which 
they  pulled  by  ropes  up  to  the  high  roof,  partly  illuminated 
the  image  of  a  woman,  bronze  and  of  heroic  size.  So  large 
is  this  statue  that  our  heads  did  not  reach  to  the  knees. 
The  patter  of  many  wooden  clogs  on  the  floor  of  the 
passage  outside  announced  the  coming  of  the  pilgrims, 
and  soon  the  narrow  space  where  we  stood  at  the  feet  of 
the  goddess  was  filled  with  worshipers.  A  gong  boomed 
solemnly,  and  the  smoke  of  incense  drifted  thickly  about 
the  face  of  Kwannon,  to  whom  our  eyes  were  Ufted.  An 
old  woman,  a  cripple,  bending  low,  touched  her  forehead 
to  the  ground,  and,  reaching  through  the  lattice,  rever- 
ently rubbed  the  feet  of  the  goddess,  then  rubbed  her  own 
poor  twisted  feet,  while  the  priests  raised  a  loud-voiced 
prayer. 

Beneath  the  trees  is  a  tiny  tea-house,  almost  under 
the  thumbs  of  the  great  Buddha,  and  there  we  ate  the 
luncheon  we  had  brought  from  Yokohama.  We  felt  al- 
most wicked  eating  chicken  and  caviar  sandwiches  under 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  127 

the  very  eyes  of  the  god.  An  old  woman,  with  a  kindly 
face  and  gentle  manners,  fanned  a  fire  of  twigs  under  a 
brass  pot,  and  gave  us  tea  in  brown  cups  on  a  flowered 
tray.  Beside  each  cup  was  a  yellow  blossom.  The  sacred 
doves  walked  about  our  feet  and  fed  from  oiu*  hands, 
eating  grain  which  we  bought  from  the  tea-house  woman. 
From  a  high-backed  bridge  we  looked  upon  a  river  of 
pinky-white  lotus.  Here  a  Japanese  poet,  who  had  en- 
tered a  temple  of  Buddha  in  Kamakura  to  study  silence, 
composed  a  poem  which,  translated  into  English,  reads . 

"  In  the  voice  of  a  bell, 
Where  prayer,  like  a  light,  all  day 
Kisses  the  shadow,  like  chest  of  faith, 
I,  awearied  not  of  life,  have  a  home. 
Along  the  path  of  the  breeze. 
Where  love,  lone,  but  happy,  sings  and  roams, 
I  gather  the  petals  of  thought. 
Nursed  by  the  slumbers  of  peace." 

I  don't  know  what  it  means,  but  it  sounds  rather 
restful.  In  the  temple  grounds  we  saw  the  jx)et  sitting 
under  the  trees,  the  leaves  falling  all  about  him,  "gath- 
ering the  petals  of  thought."  His  poems,  little  white 
papers,  fluttered  from  the  flower-stems  or  were  pasted  to 
the  rocks  in  the  garden. 

An  electric  tram-car  took  us  along  the  beach,  where 
the  waves  rolled  high  on  the  sand,  and  a  fleet  of  fishing- 
boats  tossed  on  the  sea.  Many  women  and  children  were 
picking  seaweed  on  the  beach,  calling  gaily  to  one  another, 
while  their  bright  kimonos  flapped  wildly  in  the  breeze. 

A  long  stretch  of  sand  connects  the  sacred  island  of 


128  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Enoshima  with  the  mainland,  and  over  this  causeway  we 
were  pulled  in  rickshaws.  Tradition  asserts  that  Eno- 
shima, which  is  dedicated  to  the  goddess  Benten,  the  pat- 
roness of  the  lucky,  arose  in  a  single  night  from  the  ocean. 
The  inhabitants  ran  to  the  fronts  of  the  shops  to  look  as 
we  were  pulling  up  the  single  street  of  the  village,  steep 
and  rocky.  We  left  the  rickshaws  at  the  foot  of  the  flight 
of  stone  steps  cut  in  the  rock,  which  leads  up  to  the 
temples.  An  old  man,  one  of  the  guides  who  swarm  about 
the  temple  gates,  attached  himself  to  us,  and  we  toiled  up 
to  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  past  tea-gardens,  shops, 
and  shrines,  out  to  the  edge  of  a  cliff,  where  a  sheer  drop 
of  rocky  wall  fell  away  to  the  sea,  lying  hundreds  of  feet 
below,  green,  and  breaking  in  angry  surf.  On  a  balcony 
of  rock  is  perched  a  tea-house,  from  which  is  to  be  seen 
the  finest  views  of  Fuji  Yama  in  all  Japan.  Over  the  sea, 
to  which,  far  out,  distance  gave  a  tone  of  purple;  the 
mountain,  pearly-pink,  seemed  to  hang  suspended  in  the 
tender  blue  of  the  sky. 

After  a  bird-like  limcheon  of  tea  and  cakes,  we  should 
have  retraced  our  steps  to  the  village  far  below  us,  but 
the  volunteer  guide  pointed  to  a  narrow  path  that  winds 
down  the  face  of  the  rocky  wall  to  the  sea,  where  the  de- 
scending traveler  is  fenced  in  with  a  chain — from  falUng 
upon  the  rocks  or  topphng  into  the  churning  waters  below. 
We  tried  to  make  the  old  man  understand  that  we  wished 
to  return  to  the  rickshaws,  but  he  almost  pushed  us  on, 
and  we  could  only  hope  that  we  were  taking  a  short  cut. 
But  alas  for  our  confidence!  Down,  down  we  cautiously 
made  our  way  until,  at  the  bottom  of  the  mountain,  we 


O 


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An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  129 

faced  the  mouth  of  a  great  cave.  To  go  in,  and  pre- 
sumably through  it,  or  to  retrace  our  weary  steps  to  the 
top  of  the  cUfF — there  seemed  no  other  course  open  to  us, 
unless  we  jumped  into  the  sea  or  trusted  ourselves  to  one 
of  the  tiny,  bobbing  sampans  which  came  close  to  our 
standing-place,  the  boatmen  inviting  us  by  gestures  to 
make  use  of  their  little  crafts.  As  we  had  no  means  of 
knowing  wherje  we  should  be  landed,  we  tried  the  cave, 
entering  a  narrow,  dark  passage  under  the  island.  Priests 
gave  to  each  one  a  shingle  with  a  candle  burning  on  the 
end,  which  water,  dripping  from  the  rocks  overhead, 
promptly  extinguished.  The  passage  grew  smaller  and 
lower,  and  a  group  of  pilgrims  ahead  dropped  to  their 
knees  and  crawled  onward  toward  a  small  round  hole  in 
the  distance — the  entrance  to  the  cave  on  the  other  side  of 
the  mountain,  no  doubt.  We  dropped  our  torches  and 
turned  back  to  begin  the  long,  hard  climb  to  the  top,  and 
with  some  anxiety  to  reach  the  tram-car  before  darkness 
should  shut  us  in  on  the  island.  At  every  resting-place 
the  tea-house  people  would  come  out  and  offer  tea, 
pointing  to  Fuji  Yama,  marvelous  in  the  level  light;  but 
we  wished. never  to  see  Fuji  or  to  drink  tea  again;  our 
bones  ached  with  weariness,  my  pretty  hat  was  spoiled 
by  the  dripping  water  in  the  cave,  the  sun  was  preparing 
to  set,  and  there  was  still  an  hour's  hard  climbing  and 
tumbling  down  steep  paths  before  we  should  see  the 
rickshaws. 

With  what  joy  and  relief  we  settled  our  aching  bones 
in  the  rickshaws  at  last  and  were  trotted  back  to  the 
station,  only  to  find  that  the  express  had  gone!     But  it 


130  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

did  not  much  matter,  for  there  was  a  way-train,  and  we 
did  succeed  in  reaching  Yokohama  in  safety  that  night, 
although  I  have  had  ten  days  in  bed  since  the  outing  to 
reflect  upon  the  beauties  of  Enoshima.  Surely  on  the 
island  dedicated  to  the  goddess  of  good  fortune  we  were 
anything  but  lucky. 

This  is  a  delectable  place  to  have  clothes  made.  Chi- 
nese tailors  come  to  the  hotel  with  samples  and  French 
patterns  for  approval,  also  cards  of  recommendation  from 
former  patrons,  who  praise  them  in  glowing  terms.  I 
have  a  tailor  who  is  deUghtfuUy  droll.  He  wears  a  rich 
purple  brocade  gown,  black  satin  trousers,  slippers,  and 
cap,  and  a  smile  "that  won't  come  ofif."  He  calls  all  the 
married  ladies  "Mama"  and  the  young  girls  "Missy." 
"Can  do"  and  "catchee"  and  "you  like"  cover  a  wide 
conversational  field.  He  makes  exquisite  gowns  for  a 
mere  pittance,  but  there  are,  unfortunately,  "creases  in 
the  rose-leaves."  He  is  never  on  time,  does  not  pretend 
to  keep  his  appointments,  and  delays  finishing  until  one 
is  exasperated  beyond  patience.  They  are  all  alike  in 
this,  and  usually  finish  the  clothes  just  in  time  to  throw 
them  on  board  the  boat  on  which  their  customers  are 
saiUng  away.  I  think  my  tailor  thought  I  was  sick  enough 
to  die  and  leave  the  dresses  I  had  ordered  on  his  hands,  so 
he  hustled  amazingly  to  finish  them  before  my  possible 
demise. 

I  am  pronounced  able  to  go  to  Tokio  to-morrow  to 
lunch  with  some  friends  at  the  Legation. 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  131 

ImperiaIv  Hotel, 
ToKio,  Japan,  October,  1909. 

This  hotel  is  one  of  the  sights  of  Tokio,  and  is  a 
haughty  place.  We  have  deUghtful  rooms  with  a  bath- 
room and  balcony.  Everything  in  the  place  that  has 
room  for  a  mark  has  the  imperial  crest  emblazoned  on  it. 
A  crackled  green  vase  on  a  carved  table  in  my  room  holds 
a  single  perfect  chrysanthemum,  and  as  I  write  a  little 
serving-maid  bows  herself  noiselessly  in  and  places  a 
tea-tray  on  a  taboret  at  my  elbow,  drops  a  piece  of  coal 
the  size  of  an  English  walnut  on  the  grate  fire,  and  stands 
with  folded  hands  awaiting  orders. 

Tokio  seems  almost  a  European  city,  with  wide  streets, 
glass-front  shops,  modem  hotels  run  in  the  English  style, 
and  carriages  and  horses.  There  is  a  foreign  colony  heye 
— diplomats,  university  teachers,  and  missionaries. 

We  drove  about  the  city  to-day,  past  the  Imperial 
Palace,  which  is  hidden  in  a  park  and  surrounded  by  a 
moat  filled  with  lotus  in  blossom.  A  magnificently 
carved  stone  bridge  spans  the  moat,  and  soldiers  pace  up 
and  down  the  wall  and  guard  the  gates.  On  top  of  the 
wall  grow  crooked  pine-trees,  which  hide  the  park  beyond 
from  the  eyes  of  the  passer-by.  There  are  many  soldiers 
in  Tokio;  the  officers  in  top-boots  and  spurs,  enveloped 
in  voluminous  capes,  go  by  with  sabers  clanking. 

At  the  door  of  a  small  building  the  Colonel  stopped  to 
examine  an  emblem  done  in  carved  wood — a  square  and 
compass.  Even  here  the  great  brotherhood  of  man  has  a 
home. 


132  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

After  leaving  cards  at  the  Legation,  we  drove  on  to 
luncheon  with  our  friends,  who  live  in  a  native  house 
which  has  been  modified  to  suit  European  ideas  of  com- 
fort. It  is  a  two-storied  gray  house,  set  in  an  attractive 
garden,  and  is  furnished  with  taste  and  elegance.  The 
drawing-room  opens  with  many  sliding  glass  doors  upon  a 
charming  porch,  covered  with  blooming  wistaria.  Many 
fine  pictures  hang  on  the  walls  of  this  room,  some  of  them 
done  by  a  famous  Japanese  artist,  whose  tomb,  which  we 
visited,  was  surrounded  with  offerings  of  fellow-artists, 
who  had  left  their  paint-brushes  at  the  resting-place  of 
the  master.  Our  hostess  has,  also,  a  notable  collection  of 
brasses  and  porcelain.  The  dining-room  was  pure  Jap- 
anese, with  sliding  panels  decorated  with  pine  trees  and 
flowers  in  golden  browns  on  a  cream-colored  ground. 
After  luncheon  we  sat  in  the  garden  by  a  fountain,  which 
splashed  among  purple  and  white  flowers. 

We  went  to  a  Japanese  theater,  too,  but  on  finding 
that  the  play  was  about  the  forty-seven  Ronins,  whose 
tragic  history  is  dear  to  the  Japanese,  and  that  it  lasted 
all  day  and  night,  we  contented  ourselves  with  seeing  the 
building.  One  may  go  in  the  morning,  occupy  a  tiny  box, 
and  have  luncheon  served  there  in  blue-and- white  "chow" 
dishes,  which  are  stacked  in  the  box  during  the  remainder 
of  the  play.  The  floor  of  the  theater  sloped  toward  the 
stage,  and  there  was  a  low  gallery  with  a  tiny  stall  at  the 
back,  called  the  "deaf  seats,"  which  are  occupied  by  the 
"gallery  gods." 

We  went  to  one  little  show  where  there  were  no  foot- 
lights, their  part  being  played  by  a  masked,  black -robed 


Another  "Eve,"  Filipino;  Note  Sarong  around  Body,  Beautifully 
Woven,  Bright-colored  Cotton  Cloth 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  133 

man,  who  trotted  about  the -stage  with  a  Hghted  candle 
on  the  end  of  a  pole,  which  he  poked  before  the  faces  of 
the  actors,  illuminating  their  facial  expressions  for  the 
benefit  of  the  audience.  Rather  disconcerting,  I  should 
think. 

Hundreds  of  people  visit  the  public  gardens  in  Tokio  at 
this  season  of  the  year  to  enjoy  the  autumn  foliage,  which 
the  frost  has  turned  to  a  wave  of  red  and  brown  and  gold. 
Here  trees  are  trained  to  grow  in  the  shapes  of  boats  and 
animals  and  human  faces,  and  the  flowers  bear  poetic 
names,  such  as  "frozen  moonlight,"  which  is  a  white  rose. 

The  fear  of  earthquakes  is  very  strong  in  Tokio.  Jap- 
anese mythology  says  that  this  city  rests  upon  the  back 
of  a  huge  fish,  whose  writhings  cause  the  earth  to  tremble. 
But  we  are  so  used  to  earthquakes  in  the  Philippines  that 
the  idea  doesn't  bother  us  greatly. 

It  is  late,  and  I  hear  the  weird  cry  of  the  street- 
venders,  which  announces  to  the  coolies  that  they  can  buy 
hot  rice  for  a  midnight  supper. 


NiKKO,  Japan,  October,  1909. 

"Sun's  Brightness"  is  the  meaning  of  the  name  of 
this  incomparable  place.  "He  who  has  not  seen  Nikko 
can  never  say  'magnificent',"  runs  the  proverb. 

Nikko  is  approached  by  an  avenue  of  cryptomeria 
trees  that  extends  twenty  miles  or  more — the  royal  road, 
built  two  centuries  ago  that  an  emperor  might  visit  the 
tombs  of  his  ancestors.  The  trees  are  so  large  and  thickly 
leaved  that  it  is  twilight  on  the  road  at  noonday;  the 


134  -^^  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

branches  meeting  overhead  form  an  arched  roof  of  green ; 
and  flying-squirrels,  seemingly  very  tame,  wing  their  way 
from  tree  to  tree. 

Nikko  has  only  one  street,  steep  and  hilly,  at  the  end 
of  which  a  little  river,  swirling  down  from  the  mountain 
above  the  town,  is  spanned  by  an  arch  of  red — the  sacred 
"red  bridge,"  which  only  the  Emperor  may  cross.  Near 
it  a  stone  bridge  is  built  for  the  use  of  the  people.  There 
are  locked  gates  at  each  end  of  the  red  bridge,  but  these 
gentle  subjects  need  neither  lock  nor  key;  to  them  the 
bridge  is  indeed  sacred. 

Along  the  river-bank  sit  a  row  of  small  stone  Buddhas. 
These  are  the  gods  who  play  with  the  spirits  of  children 
who  have  died  that  they  may  not  be  lonely  or  homesick; 
and  their  arms  are  heaped  with  pebbles  which  sorrowing 
mothers  have  put  there  in  remembrance. 

The  coolies  raced  along  the  steep  road  to  the  hotel, 
while  children  ran  out  to  bob  courtesies  and  cry  friendly 
greetings.  Nearly  all  of  these  Uttle  ones  had  babies  tied 
on  their  backs,  and  even  the  toddlers  were  burdened  with 
dolls  strapped  on  their  small  backs  to  teach  them  to  carry 
babies  safely  when  they  should  be  older.  Boys  and  girls 
alike  "mind  the  baby"  in  this  novel  fashion,  but  they 
seem  happy  about  it,  and  go  right  on  playing,  as  though 
they  were  unaware  of  their  burdens.  We  saw  some  boys 
playing  at  "hop-scotch,"  jumping  nimbly  around  the 
squares,  while  the  little  shaved  heads  of  the  babies  beat  a 
tattoo  on  their  backs.  Some  of  the  "papooses"  slept 
straight  through  the  game. 

The  temples  of  Nikko  are  the  most  beautiful  I  have 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  135 

seen  in  Japan.  A  broad  stone  stairway,  solemnly  bor- 
dered with  stone  lanterns,  which  stand  one  on  every  step, 
leads  to  the  gate  of  the  lyemitsu  Temple.  The  temple 
roof  is  curved  like  the  roofs  of  China,  with  the  graceful 
upward  curve  that  is,  perhaps,  borrowed  from  the  eyes  of 
the  people,  or  possibly,  centinies  ago,  from  the  tents  of 
the  desert  Arabs,  and  patterned  from  the  upcurving  line 
running  from  the  topmost  tent-pole  to  the  outside  edge  of 
the  cloth. 

In  a  small  temple  a  dancing  priestess  was  kneeling,  a 
money-box  before  her.  Her  loose  robes  and  head-dress 
were  white  and  she  wore  a  red  skirt.  With  a  canny  glance 
at  the  tray  where  lay  our  silver-piece,  she  began  side- 
stepping primly,  raising  her  arms  and  waving  a  fan  and  a 
stick  with  tinkling  bells,  and  then  resumed  her  kneeling 
posture  on  the  mat. 

A  guide  placed  us  in  front  of  a  gateway,  saying,  la- 
conically, "See  cats?"  Over  the  center  arch  were  three 
china-looking  monsters  that  bore  Uttle  resemblance  to 
pussy. 

Nikko  is  famed  for  wood-carvings,  and  we  have  bought 
boxes  and  trays  beautifully  inlaid  and  lacquered. 

Our  rooms  have  a  sun-parlor  with  writing-desk  and 
chairs.  We  look  down  on  the  red  bridge  and  across  the 
river  to  the  road  beyond.  It  is  sunset  now,  and  as  I 
write  a  never-ending  procession,  gay  and  sober-colored, 
patters  along  to  the  temples  to  pray.  It  is  cold  in  Nikko, 
and  a  little  maid-servant  renews  the  fire  with  three  lumps 
of  coal,  each  the  size  of  an  egg.     She  has  just  courtesied 


136  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

away  with  the  tea-tray,  first  inquiring  sweetly,   "Hon- 
orable lady  foreign,  tea  condescended  to  drink?" 

A  convention  of  Japanese  business  men  is  being  held 
at  the  hotel,  and  many  little  kimono-clad  gentlemen  are 
going  about,  their  pipes,  in  carved  cases,  sticking  in  their 
sashes.  We  passed  through  the  office,  which  was  thronged 
with  them,  but  so  gentle  and  polite  were  they  that  it  did 
not  occur  to  us  that  we  were  the  only  foreigners  in  the 
room.  I  wonder  how  a  Japanese  woman  in  native  dress 
would  be  treated  passing  alone  through  a  hotel  office  in 
our  country? 


Yokohama,  Japan,  October,  1909. 

What  should  happen  last  night  but  a  fire !  I  dreamed 
the  house  was  falling,  and  tried  to  call  for  help,  when  a 
light  wavering  on  the  window  shades  awoke  me.  Across 
the  street,  behind  a  brick  wall,  flames  were  mounting  to 
the  sky.  The  guide-books  warn  foreigners  against  fires 
in  Japan  as  "  an  error  to  be  avoided,"  and  we  dressed  hur- 
riedly and  packed  our  belongings  in  some  fashion.  The 
proprietor  of  this  hotel  has  great  ability  and  iron  disci- 
pline, and  we  felt  that  he  would  know  when  it  would  be 
necessary  for  the  guests  to  leave  the  house;  so  from  an 
office  window  downstairs  we  watched  the  crowd  gather 
and  the  arrival  of  the  fire  department — a  very  droll 
performance. 

The  proprietor  had  asked  the  guests  not  to  bring  down 
any  luggage,  as  he  had  his  force  ready  to  take  it  all  out,  if 
it  became  necessary,   and  he  feared  a  panic  might  be 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  137 

started.  Only  one  of  the  guests  insisted  in  bringing  down 
his  things — a  fat  man,  who  wheezed  and  puffed  up  and 
down  with  his  satchels,  much  to  the  scorn  of  the  others. 

Curiously  enough,  the  crowd  in  the  street  was  abso- 
lutely silent;  there  was  not  a  sound,  except  the  clatter  of 
wooden  shoes.  Every  ward  of  the  city  has  a  tower  with 
a  bell,  which  the  watchman  rings  if  he  chances  to  discover 
a  fire,  and  then  silent  pandemonium  is  let  loose.  Fre- 
quently, however,  the  watchman  fails  to  discover  any- 
thing amiss.  Only  a  few  moments  before  we  saw  the 
flames  we  were  told  the  watchman  had  passed  by,  jingling 
a  bunch  of  rings  on  a  pole  to  signify  that  all  was  well. 

The  firemen,  their  kimonos  flapping  about  their  bare 
legs  and  wearing  brass  helmets,  ran  about  like  distracted 
ants.  The  emblems  which  they  carried — long  poles  held 
aloft  and  blue  banners  with  cryptic  designs,  which,  I  sup- 
pose, invoked  the  fire  god  to  desist,  made  the  foreigners 
laugh,  even  though  they  were  frightened. 

Fire  is  terribly  quick  in  its  destructive  work  with  these 
houses  of  straw  and  kindling,  and  the  flames  licked  up  the 
intervening  buildings  before  a  little  engine  was  pulled  to 
the  scene  by  twenty  men  and  a  tiny  hose  was  unrolled. 
The  foreigners,  looking  on,  groaned  in  chorus  at  the  hope- 
lessness of  it.  The  sidewalks  under  the  windows  of  the 
hotel  were  piled  high  with  costly  merchandise  from  the 
store  opposite,  the  last  outpost  between  us  and  the  flames, 
which,  fortunately,  were  blown  away  from  us,  as  the  wind 
was  oflf  the  bay.  Tall  godowns,  or  storage  warehouses, 
filled  with  precious  stuffs  and  rare  fabrics,  fell  in  heaps  of 
glowing  coals. 


138  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Suddenly  the  crowd  parted,  and  two  hundred  husky, 
rolUcking  British  sailors  from  the  war-ship  in  the  bay, 
with  four  officers  in  command,  swung  through  the  narrow 
street.  They  literally  pushed  in  the  walls  that  still  stood 
and  beat  out  the  flames,  while  the  native  firemen  paraded 
leisurely  up  and  down,  and  the  emblem-bearers  stood  in 
statuesque  poses  in  the  middle  of  the  way.  Women 
with  babies  on  their  backs  and  children  with  smaller  chil- 
dren tied  on  their  small  backs  watched  with  interest  the 
queuing  of  the  fire  demon.  The  crowd  became  so  dense 
that  a  policeman  stretched  a  cord  across  the  street.  The 
mannerly  Japanese  feU  back  before  it,  but  the  foreigners 
stooped  under  it  and  went  on.  The  docility  of  the  Jap- 
anese people  is  amazing.  In  the  railroad  stations  are 
signs  which  say,  "Please  do  not  cross  the  tracks,"  and  the 
natives  do  not  think  of  disobeying  the  polite  request, 
going  up  a  flight  of  stairs  and  through  a  wooden  passage, 
rather  than  cross  the  unbarred  way.  For  enforcing  the 
laws  in  Japan,  iron  fences,  locked  gates,  and  policemen 
are  unnecessary. 

The  crowd  dispersed  as  silently  as  it  had  gathered, 
stepping  painstakingly  around  the  piles  of  rich  and  per- 
ishable goods,  with  which  the  street  was  littered.  The 
stores  opposite  the  hotel  lost  all  their  merchandise  that 
was  stored  in  the  burned  godowns,  amounting  to  thou- 
sands of  dollars ;  and  to-day  we  bought  at  a  fire-sale  beau- 
tiful old  prints  and  silks  that  were  only  dampened  by 
water. 

The  Emperor  has  a  garden-party  on  the  3d  of  No- 
vember, and  all  our  friends  are  going  and  are  keeping  the 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  139 

Chinese  tailors  busy  making  costumes  for  the  men  as  well 
as  for  the  women.  We  shall  be  on  our  way  to  China  then. 
If  we  could  take  with  us  our  willing  coolies  and  the  rick- 
shaws we  like  so  much,  I  should  be  less  grief-stricken  at 
leaving  this  enchanting  country. 

On  Board  Steamship  Mongolia, 

October,  1909. 

We  are  having  a  fascinating  trip  through  the  Inland 
Sea,  with  a  farewell  view  of  Fuji  in  a  pale-pink  morn- 
ing sky. 

There  are  several  hundred  passengers  aboad  this 
boat,  forty  of  them  American  missionaries  going  out  to 
China,  where  they  must  serve  seven  years  before  they  re- 
turn to  their  homes.  Some  of  them  are  dreadfully  home- 
sick, especially  two  pale-faced  girls.  All  disembark  at 
Shanghai,  where  a  party  of  eight  are  to  hire  a  house-boat 
and  sail  for  three  months  up  the  river  to  their  station. 
When  we  are  back  in  the  Philippines  they  will  still  be 
going  on  and  on.  One  old  man  was  born  in  China,  and 
has  been  a  mission-helper  for  thirty  years.  He  talks  of 
"getting  back  home."  I  am  happy  not  to  be  exiled  for 
so  many  years;  indeed,  in  view  of  the  term  of  service  of 
the  missionaries,  our  sojourn  in  the  Philippines  seems  a 
blissful  holiday. 

We  have  a  Japanese  prince  aboard  also,  returning  from 
school  in  Europe,  a  bright-eyed,  clean,  well  set-up  young 
chap,  who  is  not  only  a  prince,  but  a  priest  of  the  temple 
as  well.     He  is  a  favorite  with  some  nice  English  girls  on 


140  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

the  ship  and  is  evidently  deeply  attracted  by  one  of  them, 
a  pretty,  vivacious  girl,  with  whom  he  walks  the  deck, 
laughing  and  talking  happily  in  French  or  English. 

Letters  from  Camp  Stotsenburg  tell  us  that  the  white 
ants  have  eaten  the  wooden  foundations  of  our  bungalow, 
which  was  about  to  fall  to  earth  when  repairs  were  be- 
gun by  Filipino  workmen,  who  are  putting  in  new  props 
against  the  day  of  our  return. 

At  8  o'clock  this  morning  we  sailed  into  the  harbor  of 
Kobe.  Boats,  barges,  sampans,  and  launches  soon  sur- 
rounded the  ship,  and  we  noticed  particularly  a  fine 
launch,  "dressed  ship"  with  Japanese  flags  and  banners, 
the  deck  packed  with  men  and  women,  all  looking  up  as 
they  neared  the  steamer.  A  murmured  chanting  reached 
our  ears,  and  we  saw  that  over  the  upraised  wrists  of  the 
people,  the  hands  held  palm  to  palm,  were  prayer-beads. 
They  had  come  to  greet  their  prince  and  priest.  Four 
Japanese  men,  dressed  in  handsome  native  costume, 
boarded  the  boat,  and  a  few  moments  later  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  our  young  prince,  standing  in  his  state-room, 
with  bowed  head,  and  wearing  not  the  jaunty  European 
costume  in  which  he  had  become  a  familiar  figure  to  our 
eyes,  but  the  dark,  rich  robes  of  his  priestly  office.  At 
his  feet,  with  faces  pressed  into  their  folded  hands,  were 
prostrated  the  four  men  who  had  come  to  greet  and 
claim  him.  They  escorted  him  to  the  gangway,  and  at 
sight  of  their  prince  the  people  waiting  on  the  launch 
raised  a  cry  and  lifted  their  hands.  The  pretty  English 
g^l  watched  the  scene  with  a  pale  face,  and,  when  the 
prince  passed  near  her,  made  as  though  to  wave  farewell. 


Igorrote  Girl 


Negritos,  near  Camp  Stotsenburg,  Philippines 
Negrito  Bow  and  Arrow  Fight,  near  Camp  Stotsenburg,  Philippines 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  141 

He  looked  directly  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  beyond,  as 
though  he  had  never  seen  or  known  her,  and  passed  on. 
His  people  lifted  him  aboard  the  laimch  and  bore  him 
away  across  the  morning  sea. 

A  native  gentleman  came  aboard  presently,  asking 
for  us  and  bringing  the  card  of  one  of  our  friends,  so  we 
put  ourselves  under  his  care,  and  were  puffed  and  whistled 
ashore.  On  the  pier  were  the  rickshaws,  and  we  were  off 
as  fast  as  a  man  can  trot  to  buy  embroideries  from  one 
Koshi  Ishi. 


Kobe,  Japan,  October,  1909. 

This  is  an  adorable  place,  and  the  lovely  things  to  buy 
simply  tease  the  money  out  of  one's  pocket.  We  have 
been  to  the  shops  of  Koshi  Ishi,  on  Motomachi  Street,  in 
the  old  city  of  Hyogo,  where  we  climbed  to  an  attic  room , 
piled  high  with  rich  fabrics  and  objects  of  art,  over  which 
we  bargained.  Near  by,  outside  a  temple,  gray  and  old, 
a  great  Buddha  sits  on  a  lotus-leaf,  and  clustered  about 
his  feet  are  the  little  shops  of  the  merchants,  who  trade 
"in  the  shadow  of  the  god." 

Kobe  is  built  at  the  foot  of  a  mountain,  and  far  up  on 
the  mountain-side,  distant  and  lovely,  stands  the  cool, 
white  Temple  of  the  Moon. 

A  card  of  introduction  to  the  proprietor  of  a  splendid 
tea-garden  some  miles  from  the  town  induced  us  to  travel 
by  rickshaws  out  into  the  highways  and  hedges  of  the 
countryside  until  we  drew  up  under  a  stone  gateway,  and 
our  coolies,  pointing  to  a  dense  grove  of  trees,  motioned 


142  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

us  to  go  on  from  that  point  afoot.  I  felt  nervous,  remem- 
bering the  cave  on  the  island  of  Enoshima,  but  I  kept  my 
fears  to  myself,  and  we  rambled  into  the  grove,  presently 
coming  up  with  an  old  man  who  looked  like  a  Japan- 
ese Rip  Van  Winkle.  We  followed  where  he  beckoned, 
through  grottoes,  along  darkling  paths,  beside  a  tinkling 
stream,  over  picturesque  bridges,  and  along  avenues  bor- 
dered with  stone  lanterns.  Here  and  there  a  bronze  god 
grinned  at  us  with  sinister  leering. 

At  the  top  of  the  hill  stands  a  temple  filled  with  images, 
armor,  gods,  and  dragons.  A  young  Japanese,  who  spoke 
fairly  good  EngUsh,  invited  us  into  a  tea-room,  where, 
seated  at  a  table  of  white  jade,  we  drank  green  tea,  thick 
and  bitter. 

Almost  immediately  the  showman  proceeded  to  set 
forth  his  wares,  offering  to  sell  us  anything,  from  the 
temple  itself  down  to  the  smallest  and  most  precious 
stones.  We  had  not  come  to  buy  curios,  and  when  we 
showed  no  enthusiasm  for  pm-chasing,  men  appeared  at 
the  open  doorways  who  scowled  and  gestured  toward  us 
in  no  pleasant  fashion.  We  all  felt  anxious  to  be  gone. 
The  showman  kept  insisting  that  we  buy,  offering  gods  of 
mammoth  size  and  vases  a  few  inches  high.  At  last  we 
purchased  some  ivory  carvings,  proposing  that  they  come 
to  the  hotel  for  any  further  trade,  and  hastily  retraced  our 
steps  to  the  gate,  where  we  were  relieved  to  find  the 
coolies  waiting. 

When  this  unpleasant  experience  was  mentioned  to 
the  proprietor  of  the  hotel,  he  suddenly  failed  to  speak 
English. 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  143 

VIII. 

A  TRIP  TO  CHINA. 

Palace  Hotel, 
Shanghai,  China,  October,  1909. 

After  crossing  the  muddy  Yellow  Sea,  we  dropped 
anchor  in  the  Yangtse  River,  where  we  were  transferred  to 
a  steam  launch,  which  took  us  sixteen  miles  up  the  river 
to  Shanghai. 

The  Yangtse  River  flows  through  a  flat,  brown  coun- 
try, with  many  villages  and  acres  of  graves,  and  here  and 
there  a  pagoda  or  a  temple  with  up-curving  roof  to  break 
the  monotony  of  the  sky-line. 

Ships  and  small  boats,  flying  the  flags  of  all  nations, 
crowd  the  river.  In  a  shipyard  on  the  bank  the  United 
States  transport  Warren  was  laid  up  for  repairs;  and  a 
Navy  man  on  the  launch  joined  our  frantic  waving  as  we 
came  abreast  of  the  Red,  White,  and  Blue  at  her  mast, 
rippling  gallantly  in  the  breeze  against  a  Chinese  sky. 
We  passed  also  a  Japanese  battle-ship,  a  German  and  a 
British  man-o'-war,  and  several  Englishmen  who  were 
aboard  raised  their  caps  to  the  Union  Jack.  Our  own 
gunboat  Wilmington  lay  at  anchor  in  the  river,  and  while 

we  passed  Commander  L and  the  Colonel  stood  with 

hats  off,  and  I  kissed  my  hand  to  the  dear  familiar  colors, 
while  forty  missionaries,  catching  the  home  fever,  cheered 
loudly. 


144  ^*^  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Walking  three  squares  from  the  landing  to  this  hotel 
is  the  first  taste  of  independence  we  have  had  since  our 
arrival  in  Japan.  We  have  become  so  lazily  accustomed 
to  being  pulled  about  in  rickshaws  that  moving  "under 
our  own  steam,"  as  we  do  here,  gives  an  unwonted  sense  of 
personal  responsibility.  I  feel  like  a  runaway  child  who 
has  escaped  the  vigilance  of  a  nurse,  for  Japan  is  just  that 
to  the  strangfers  within  her  gates. 

New  Shanghai,  "the  window  of  China,"  as  it  is  called, 
is  like  almost  any  large  seaport  in  America  or  Europe. 
The  streets  are  wide,  there  are  many  parks,  and  the 
hund,  or  water-front,  is  bordered  with  imposing  build- 
ings. Shanghai  has  the  largest  foreign  settlement  of  any 
city  in  the  Orient,  and  an  immense  export  trade. 

Yesterday  we  drove  on  the  Bubbling  Well  Road,  the 
fashionable  thoroughfare,  which  is  crowded  with  vehicles, 
from  luxurious  victorias,  occupied  by  smart-looking  Eng- 
lish people,  to  rickshaws,  carts,  and  wheelbarrows.  Ev- 
erybody in  Shanghai  seemed  to  be  out  for  a  drive. 

Indian  policemen,  tall  and  swarthy,  in  tan  linen 
blouses  and  trousers,  their  heads  swathed  in  voluminous 
white  turbans,  control  the  traffic,  checking  the  flow  of 
carriages  with  an  upraised  hand.     They  are  magnificent. 

On  this  drive  we  visited  the  headquarters  of  the  mis- 
sionaries, from  which  workers  are  sent  to  all  parts  of 
China. 

Another  excursion  took  us  to  a  convent  where  Irish 
lace  is  made;  the  way  taking  us  past  the  graves  of  the 
ancestors,  over  a  curved  bridge,  and  through  a  garden 


Moro  Head-hunter  and  First-class  Fighting  Man 


A  Bontoc  Head-hunter,  Philippines 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  145 

purple  with  asters  and  sweet  with  liHes,  then  on  to  the  fur 
market  and  the  silk  merchants. 

We  have  driven,  also,  along  the  Nanking  road  and  to 
the  Hankow  market,  where  I  remembered  the  nursery 
rhyme: 

"  I  think  to  take  tea  with  you  would  be  nice, 
Except  I  hear  you  live  mostly  on  mice," 

The  foreign  residents,  it  seems,  seldom  venture  into 
the  old  city,  and  some  of  our  friends  who  live  here  tried 
to  dissuade  us,  but  we  thought  it  too  interesting  to  miss, 
so  arranged  at  the  hotel  for  a  carriage  and  a  guide,  and 
set  forth  through  the  French  quarter,  which  adjoins  Old 
Shanghai.  At  the  crumbling  gateway  we  had  to  leave 
the  carriage  and  walk,  and,  once  inside  the  walls,  we  felt 
as  if  we  had  stepped  back  into  the  dark  ages. 

Through  ill-smelling  alleys,  so  narrow  that  we  had  to 
walk  single  file,  we  made  our  way,  passing  along  streets 
of  open-front  shops,  wherein  we  could  see  the  workers 
bending  to  their  toil — shops  which  offered  for  sale  every- 
thing from  coffins  to  flowers,  the  latter  a  refreshing  sight — 
great  bunches  of  China  asters,  curiously  fresh  and  inno- 
cent-looking in  that  strange,  evil  place. 

It  is  most  laughable  to  read  the  various  sign-boards 
hanging  in  rows  outside  the  shops.  Over  a  filthy  opium- 
den  is  "Delightful  Abode  of  Virtue  and  Happiness." 
A  tobacco-shop  advertises  "The  Three  Fairies,"  and  a 
sign  for  a  meat-shop  reads,  "Mutton-shop  of  Morning 
TwiUght." 

Twilight  broods  upon  the  walled  city,  for  the  signs  and 


146  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

overhanging  roofs  shut  out  the  dayHght;  and  pervading 
it  all  is  an  indescribable  odor — a  blend  of  opium-smoke, 
incense,  oil,  and  onions. 

The  wall  shelters  a  multitude  of  booths,  which  offer  a 
variety  of  wares  to  the  would-be  purchaser.  Here  one 
may  buy,  according  to  his  taste,  almost  anything  from 
carvings  of  cunning  workmanship  to  long-tailed  rats, 
which  appear  to  be  a  staple  diet  among  the  Chinese. 

First,  we  went  into  a  temple,  where,  behind  a  superbly 
carved  entrance,  stood  the  hideous  images  of  the  gods. 
The  sellers  of  doves  were  there,  and  the  money-changers, 
the  lepers,  the  lame,  the  halt,  and  the  blind.  The  priest 
scowled  at  us,  and  we  made  haste  to  drop  coins  into  the 
outstretched  tray  and  to  light  sticks  of  incense,  which  we 
placed  before  the  first  god  we  could  reach.  One  feels  very 
foreign  here,  and  almost  a  "devil,"  for  there  are  mut- 
terings  and  pointed  fingers — the  blown  straws  which  show 
that  we  are  intruders  and  unwelcome  among  the  odorous 
alleys  of  the  old  city. 

The  crowds  in  the  streets  kept  up  a  never-ending 
clamor,  which  was  distracting,  and  I  took  hold  of  the 
sleeve  of  our  guide,  a  fat  Chinaman  in  a  white  linen  gown, 
with  his  queue  tucked  into  his  belt,  hoping  that  the  next 
turning  would  find  us  in  a  quieter  and  cleaner  place. 
His  Buddha  face  was  unmoved,  however,  by  my  tremors, 
and  saying,  "Now  we  go  see  Spirit  Bridge,  Missy  come," 
he  piloted  us  into  alleys  darker  and  more  stifling,  swarming 
with  yellow  men,  women,  and  children,  all  pushing  and 
shouting,  and  carrying  heavy  burdens — enough,  it  seemed 
to  me,  to  supply  the  needs  of  a  world.     At  last  we  came 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  147 

out  into  a  square — the  only  place  where  we  saw  a  patch 
of  sky  in  Old  Shanghai — where,  spanning  a  slimy,  green 
pool,  is  the  famous  Crooked  Bridge,  familiar  to  our  eyes 
from  the  willow-pattern  plates  of  our  childhood.  Over 
the  bridge,  which  "evil  spirits  cannot  cross,"  we  wavered, 
while  an  old  woman,  with  visible  signs  of  leprosy,  held  out 
stumps  and  shrieked  for  alms;  and  children,  dirty  and 
diseased  and  clothed  only  in  scraps  of  bagging,  bobbed 
their  heads  against  the  flooring,  whining  distressingly. 

A  tea-house  of  fantastic  shape  was  inhabited  by  the 
chief  of  beggars,  so  we  contented  ourselves  with  looking 
in  at  the  open  door. 

In  the  Mandarins'  Garden  we  had  a  restful  half -horn-, 
as  the  crowd  of  beggars  who  followed  us  was  shut  out  by 
the  gate-keeper.  Here  the  mandarins  come  to  drink  tea 
and  play  chess.  The  garden  is  a  small  inclosure,  with 
stunted  trees  of  willow,  fern,  and  bamboo,  tea-houses, 
curved  bridges,  rocks  carved  to  represent  the  faces  of 
dragons,  and  a  sacred  tomb,  upon  which  some  Vandal 
had  blue-penciled  "T.  R.,  Tsar  of  America."  The  guide 
pointed  to  this  and  shrugged  his  shoulders.  We  felt 
shame  for  that  shameless  tourist. 

It  was  with  relief  that  we  found  ourselves  at  the  gate 
once  more,  and  back  again  to  the  European-ness  of  this 
hotel,  although  the  "chow"  here  is  distinctly  Oriental. 
As  we  came  through  the  office  a  tall,  lean,  blue-gowned 
"bell-hop,"  looking  up  to  the  balcony,  called  in  drawling 
pidgin  English  to  someone  above,  "Hey,  you  one  piece 
prince  up  topside?"  and  a  solemn  Chinaman  in   spec- 


148  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

tacles  and  a  dark  silk  coat  leaned  over  the  railing  and 
answered  laconically,  "Have  got." 

Now  we  must  board  the  launch  once  more  and  sail 
down  the  "River  of  Fragrant  Tea-leaves,"  which  is  also 
called  "China's  Sorrow,"  for  nearly  a  thousand  junks  are 
wrecked  annually  upon  the  Yangtse.  A  civilization  that 
wears  its  hair  long  and  its  shirt  outside  certainly  presents 
a  difficult  problem. 

The  bell-boy  has  just  knocked  and  said,  "Missy, 
wantchee  see  one  piece  lady — allee  samee  American?" 
Goodness  knows  I  want  to  see  anything  American  at  this 
moment — land  preferred. 


Hong-Kong,  China,  November,  1909. 

As  a  foreign  devil,  O  "Land  of  Sweet  Waters"  (which 
is  the  meaning  of  Hong-Kong),  I  salute  you.  The  liner 
cast  anchor  in  the  harbor,  which  is  known  as  the  "finest  in 
the  world,"  on  Monday  morning,  and  we  are  anchored  a 
mile  or  so  from  shore.  Hotel-runners  come  aboard  at 
once  to  solicit  patronage,  and  every  hotel  sends  its  own 
launch  to  take  its  guests  and  their  luggage,  so  it  is  really 
not  such  a  hopeless  business  as  it  seems  at  first. 

Hong-Kong,  as  seen  from  the  harbor,  is  a  magnificent 
city,  built  up  the  side  of  a  mountain  and  set  against  a 
range  of  high  peaks.  The  city  stands  upon  an  island, 
separated  frorri  the  mainland  by  a  few  miles  of  water.  It 
has  over  three  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  of  every 
race,  creed,  and  color;  and,  ceded  to  Great  Britain  in 
1 84 1,  it  has  become  a  clearing-house  for  the  world,     Ev- 


Jlt^ 


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C 


4*  &. 


Negrito  Hunter 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  149 

erything  and  everybody  passes  through  Hong-Kong;  all 
travelers  in  the  Orient  stop  here,  and  ships  of  all  nations 
put  in  at  this  port. 

On  the  uncovered  pier  coolies  and  Sedan-chairs  were 
waiting,  and  our  host  instructed  me  in  chair  etiquette. 
Holding  up  imaginary  skirts,  he  faced  the  front  chair- 
bearer,  stepped  briskly  over  the  pole,  then  back  two 
steps,  and  seated  himself — all  very  easy  to  look  at.  I 
forgot  the  two  steps  backward,  however,  and  sat  down — 
on  the  floor.  The  Sedan-chair,  which  is  made  of  wicker 
(this  one  had  pale-blue  oilsilk  curtains  and  a  bright  green 
top),  is  swung  upon  two  light  poles,  between  which  walk 
the  coolies,  front  and  back,  leather  straps  about  their 
necks  fastened  to  the  poles.  The  chair  bounces  up  and 
down,  reminding  me  of  a  ship  in  a  "beam  sea." 

Hong-Kong  streets  are  a  series  of  terraces  and  flights 
of  steps,  and  the  coolies  climb  up,  up  to  the  hotel,  which 
is  a  three-storied  white  house  clinging  to  the  mountain 
side,  with  balconies  in  front  and  a  flower-garden  that  over- 
hangs the  roofs  of  the  houses  in  the  street  below.  This 
garden  is  a  narrow  strip,  paved  with  white  tiles,  with  a 
brick  walk  running  through  the  middle,  bordered  with 
blossoming  plants  and  dwarf  orange-  and  lemon- trees. 
Bronze  urns  hold  smaller  plants  of  great  beauty.  A  low 
wall  shuts  the  garden  in,  or,  I  might  say,  holds  it  on,  and 
protects  those  who  walk  therein  from  falling  some  thirty 
feet  to  the  roofs  below. 

Still  farther  down  below  the  garden  are  barracks  and 
a  parade-ground ;  for  English  troops — Highlanders,  Royal 
Fusiliers,  and  Sepoys — are  stationed  here.     We  hear  the 


150  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

trumpets  and  the  firing,  and  the  Royal  Rajput  Band  plays 
martial  music  all  day  and  most  of  the  night.  In  the 
lighted  windows  of  the  club-house  we  can  see  the  officers 
playing  billiards,  and  a  happy  Tommy  Atkins  is  singing: 

"The  Life-guard  waits  for  the  pastry-cook, 
But  she  won't  wait  for  'im." 

If  "love  and  a  cough  cannot  be  hidden,"  no  more  can 
the  military  bearing  of  the  trained  soldier.  The  sentinels 
at  the  barracks  surprised  and  embarrassed  the  Colonel 
this  morning  by  saluting  as  we  passed. 

Ahove  our  hotel  is  a  fringe  of  gardens  behind  pro- 
tecting walls,  with  other  balconied  white  houses  like  our 
own.  Little  tram-cars  are  drawn  up  to  the  peak  and  run 
down  again  on  an  incUned  plane  with  a  speed  that  makes 
one  shut  one's  eyes  to  watch  (how  is  that  for  a  bull?)  or 
hold  one's  breath  to  ride  in. 

At  night  we  look  up  from  our  windows  at  the  twink- 
ling lights  above  us,  and  from  the  balcony  in  front  to  a 
never-to-be-forgotten  view — streets,  houses,  and  parks 
dropping  down  to  the  water's  edge  and  the  ships  in  the 
harbor  carrying  out  to  sea  their  starry  fights. 

Our  room  is  immense,  with  a  very  high  ceifing,  and 
furniture  for  a  race  of  giants.  The  chairs,  which  would 
hold  three  good-sized  people,  are  of  teak  wood,  carved  to 
represent  fishes  and  gobUns  of  unpleasant  expression. 
The  dressing-table  is  a  monster  dragon  holding  out  a  huge 
mirror.  Fortunately,  the  beds  are  of  good,  clean,  white 
iron.  In  an  adjoining  room  a  large  green  bronze  flower- 
vase  occupies  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  this,  you  will  be 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  151 

pleased  to  know,  is  our  bath-tub.  There  is  no  running 
water.  CooUes  bring  in  our  water-supply  in  cans  three 
times  a  day.  The  sanitary  arrangements  here  are  about 
as  cheerful  as  trying  to  flirt  with  a  skeleton. 

We  have  just  been  down  to  dinner,  which  we  had  on 
the  balcony,  although  it  is  cool  enough  out  there  to  need  a 
wrap.  It  was  too  lovely  to  think  of  dining  indoors,  how- 
ever, with  that  heavenly  view  to  be  enjoyed.  A  cooHe 
pulled  a  punkah  over  our  heads  to  keep  away  the  insects. 

The  head-waiter  here  wears  a  stunning  costume — a 
pale-blue  gown  opening  at  the  sides,  deep  white  linen 
cuffs,  black  trousers,  and  a  stiff  linen  cap.  His  queue 
hangs  to  his  heels  and  is  tied  with  a  black  tassel.  The 
waiters  wear  the  national  dress — a  dark-blue  cotton  gown 
and  black  heelless  sUppers,  turned  up  at  the  toes.  A 
characteristic  dinner  was  made  up  of  rice,  mushrooms  with 
a  trimming  of  lotus-roots,  slices  of  raw  fish  in  a  brown 
sauce,  grilled  lobster  in  spiced  broth,  chicken  and  larks 
dressed  in  parsnips,  pickled  beet-root,  soup  of  ttfftle 
cooked  in  lemon  juice,  and  last  and  all  the  time,  tea. 

It  is  fortunate  that  Japan,  in  learning  much  from 
China,  did  not  take  lessons  in  manners  as  well.  We  are 
daily  made  to  reaUze  that  we  are  foreigners  and  are  to  be 
considered  only  as  objects  from  which  coin  may  be  ex- 
tracted. Printed  cards  are  issued  to  help  tourists,  with 
rules  and  proper  charges  for  Sedan-chairs;  but  we  have 
not  yet  found  a  chairman  who  is  willing  to  abide  by  the 
contract.  The  moment  the  chair  is  set  down  and  you 
take  out  your  watch  to  see  how  long  you  have  been  riding, 
the  cooUes  set  up  a  howl  and  crowd  so  close  that  you 


152  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

cannot  step  out.  It  is  the  same,  no  matter  how  much 
you  pay  or  how  little.  One  of  our  friends  should  have 
paid  twenty  cents  for  a  chair  to  the  wharf,  but  gave  the 
coolies  a  dollar,  thinking  it  a  shame  to  let  two  thin  Chi- 
namen carry  him  for  so  little.  Instantly  they  raised  an 
uproar  and  drew  down  upon  our  friend  the  threatening 
attention  of  a  group  of  wharf -loungers.  At  the  arrival  of 
a  poUceman  the  cooUes  tried  to  get  away,  but  the  "maj- 
esty of  the  law"  prevailed;  the  policeman  made  them 
give  back  the  dollar,  and  they  departed,  evidently  well 
satisfied  with  their  twenty  cents.  The  idea  seems  to  be 
get  more,  no  matter  what  they  are  paid. 

We  have  tried  everything — exact  fare,  a  Uberal  tip, 
or  an  appeal  to  a  policeman — all  to  the  same  tiresome 
ending.  It  quite  spoils  the  pleasure  of  riding  in  the 
chairs.  Now  the  coohes  are  beginning  to  know  our  faces, 
and  sometimes  we  get  away  in  peace. 

In  the  bank,  while  the  Colonel  was  cashing  a  check, 
an  Indian  beggar  came  up  to  me  and  asked  for  money  in- 
sistently in  a  low  voice  and  excellent  English.  I  thought 
the  clerks,  who  saw  him,  would  interfere,  but  they  did 
not,  and  the  Colonel  waved  the  fellow  away.  The  clerks 
(nice,  accommodating  young  men),  when  they  were  asked 
why  they  p>ermitted  their  customers  to  be  annoyed  in 
their  building,  replied  that  they  did  not  dare  to  object. 

Our  English  friends  have  been  so  critical  of  American 
administration  in  Manila  that  we  expected  to  find  Hong- 
Kong,  after  fifty  years  of  British  rule,  a  model  city,  p>er- 
fectly  governed ;  and  it  is  with  pride  that  I  say  that,  after 
ten  years  of  American  rule,  no  one  living  in  Manila  or 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  153 

visiting  there  would  think  of  putting  up  with  the  insults 
and  threats  with  which  the  drivers  of  pubUc  conveyances 
and  the  beggars  browbeat  all  visitors  to  Hong-Kong. 

We  have  been  down  in  the  city,  sight-seeing  and  shop- 
ping. Hong-Kong  has  cement  roads,  well-paved  gutters, 
and  bridgfes  and  walls  of  wonderful  engineering.  Some  of 
the  streets  are  beautiful.  Battery  Path,  with  its  ferns, 
palms,  and  bamboo-trees  hemming  in  the  narrow  way 
around  a  hillside,  is  very  pretty. 

Queen's  Road  Central,  which  is  the  best  shopping 
street  and  one  of  the  greatest  thoroughfares  in  the  world, 
is  disappointing  as  a  street,  it  is  so  narrow,  so  crooked, 
and  so  mixed  as  to  architecture.  But  the  crowd  and  the 
street-sights  are  thrilUng.  Here  men  of  all  races  pass, 
afoot,  in  rickshaws  or  in  Sedan-chairs.  We  saw  one  soU- 
tary  horse  drawing  a  cart  to  which  he  was  harnessed  with 
red  and  yellow  ropes,  trimmed  with  tassels,  and  wearing, 
poor  beast,  "rings  in  his  ears  and  bells  on  his  toes,"  to 
misquote  Mother  Goose.  Christians,  Buddhists,  priests, 
soldiers,  sailors,  English  lords,  and  Indian  princes  rub 
elbows  with  tourists  from  all  over  the  world;  and  every- 
where there  are  Chinamen  and  more  Chinamen,  most  of 
them  carrying  heavy  burdens  on  their  bowed  shoulders. 
Peddlers  make  their  way  through  the  crowd,  shrilly  cry- 
ing their  wares;  they  are  selling  rice,  which  the  coolies'^ 
almost  live  upon. 

The  Indian  policemen — tall,  dark  men,  with  soft  eyes, 
dressed  in  buff,  with  puttees  and  red  turbans — are  beau- 
tiful to  behold.  I  stood  beside  one  of  them  at  a  crossing 
where  the  rattling  rickshaws,  drawn  by  reckless  coolies, 


154  '^**'  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

and  Sedan  chairs,  with  long  poles  knocking  a  way  before 
them,  made  the  street  almost  impassable.  I  was  afraid 
to  cross,  for,  though  a  horse  rarely  steps  on  a  human 
being,  a  Chinese  coolie  will  do  so.  The  brown-faced 
Sikh  raised  a  majestic  hand,  the  cooHes  halted  as  though 
turned  to  stone,  and  I  made  my  way  over  a  cleared  space 
in  elegant  leisure.  I  admire  these  artistic  policemen 
greatly,  but  I  could  hug  a  fat  American  bluecoat  on  sight. 

It  is  hke  living  in  a  museum  to  awaken  among  the 
ancient  objects  with  which  we  are  surrounded.  Such  a 
sense  of  age  pervades  these  old  brocades  and  embroid- 
eries, made  by  fingers  long  since  fallen  to  dust,  that  it  is 
a  relief  to  look  at  anything  new  or  young — the  newly 
opened  flowers  in  the  garden,  or  a  Chinese  baby  toddling 
beside  his  mother,  who  drags  a  great  paving-stone  along 
the  road  by  a  chain  fastened  about  her  neck. 

As  we  go  out  we  must  step  over  the  wares  of  the  ped- 
dlers, who  bring  their  silks  and  porcelains  at  dawn  and 
sit  on  the  porch  all  day,  selling  to  the  house  guests. 

And,  by  the  way,  fat  people  are  considered  lucky  in 
China  and  are  much  esteemed.  They  are  called  ' '  Heaven 
sent,"  and  are  said  to  be  favorites  of  Fortune. 

To-morrow  we  go  to  Canton. 

Hotel  Victoria,  the  Shameen, 
Canton,  China,  November,  1909. 
This  morning  we  arose  with  the  lark — no,  the  Enghsh 
sparrow — to  catch  the  boat  leaving  Hong-Kong  at  7 
o'clock.     Otu"  passage  had  been  engaged  by  Cook  on  an 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  155 

English  boat,  the  steamer  Honan,  together  with  a  guide 
to  meet  us  in  Canton.  The  boat  was  clean  and  com- 
fortable, the  captain  a  typical,  beef -eating,  red-faced, 
middle-class  EngUshman,  very  polite  and  attentive  in 
pointing  out  the  points  of  interest  on  shore.  Our  com- 
ments invariably  elicited  a  drawling  "Well,  rawtherl" 
as  he  settled  a  glass  in  his  eye.  On  the  lower  deck  many 
Chinamen  smoked  opium,  while  two  Japanese  gentlemen, 
students  in  the  university  at  Tokio,  shared  with  us  the 
upper  deck. 

The  SQene  at  the  wharf  in  Hong-Kong  was  most 
curious.  Acres  of  small  boats,  on  which  thousands  of 
Chinese  live  from  birth  to  death,  knowing  no  other  homes, 
swarm  upon  the  waters.  Women  paddle  these  odd  craft, 
and  are  seen  steering,  cooking  dinner  for  their  families,  or 
engaged  in  loading  and  unloading  steamers,  many  of  them 
carrying  babies  on  their  backs  as  they  work,  bound  fast 
by  a  wide  blue  cloth,  only  the  head  of  the  child  being 
visible.  Other  children  run  recklessly  about  their  tippy 
Uttle  homes,  the  boys  with  blocks  of  wood  fastened  to 
their  backs,  so  that  they  will  float  until  they  can  be 
rescued,  in  case  they  fall  into  the  water.  The  girls,  alas ! 
must  swim.  No  such  precaution  is  taken  with  them, 
for,  having  no  souls,  it  really  doesn't  matter.  The  cap- 
tain reUeved  my  mind  by  observing  that  the  girls  were 
usually  pulled  out,  too,  notwithstanding  their  inferiority. 

The  flower-boats,  with  wide,  flat  bows,  are  painted 
with  two  great  eyes,  so  that  the  boat  may  see,  and  are 
otherwise  decorated  in  gaudy  colors  with  the  carved  and 
painted  Ukenesses  of  beasts,   birds,   and  flowers.     The 


156  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

women  in  the  boats  scream  and  chatter  in  hoarse  voices, 
like  a  forestful  of  monkeys. 

When  a  Chinaman  ships  as  a  sailor,  he  makes  an 
agreement  with  the  ship's  company  to  send  his  body  home 
for  burial  in  case  of  death,  that  his  disembodied  spirit 
may  not  wander  forever.  They  all  wear  tags  about  their 
necks,  marked  with  name  and  address,  that  there  may  be 
no  mistake  about  their  burial-places. 

Leaving  Hong-Kong,  with  its  unspeakable  odors,  we 
sailed  into  a  wide  and  peaceful  stream,  the  Pearl  River,  on 
which  Canton  is  situated,  soon  making  our  way  through 
the  "Tiger's  Gate,"  where  the  high,  rocky  shores  leave  a 
channel  just  wide  enough  for  the  steamer  to  pass  between. 
The  landscape  along  the  river  is  dotted  with  small  vil- 
lages, which  gave  us  glimpses  in  passing  of  up-curved 
roofs  of  temples  and  houses  and  occasional  pagodas,  with 
trees  growing  from  their  lofty  tops.  The  land  is  low  and 
flat,  and  the  rice-fields,  vividly  green,  splash  its  brown- 
ness  with  patches  of  bright  color.  Everywhere  are 
graves.  One  of  the  Japanese  gentlemen  said  in  English, 
"In  China  the  graves  no  limited."  And,  indeed,  the 
country  seems  a  vast  graveyard.  The  tombs  are  richly 
carved  and  painted  with  brilliant  hues;  before  one  of 
them  joss-sticks  were  burning,  and  women  knelt,  with 
faces  pressed  upon  the  earth.  We  passed  also  some  forti- 
fications, with  guns  that,  through  the  field-glasses,  ap- 
peared to  be  of  obsolete  pattern;  troops  were  marching, 
their  bright  uniforms  and  yellow  bunting  making  a 
brilliant  display. 

In  midstream  the  boat  stopped,  a  covered  barge  came 


3 

u 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  157 

alongside,  with  much  ringing  of  bells  and  tooting  of  horns, 
and  the  passengers  from  our  boat  who  were  bound  for 
Whampo,  also  the  freight,  were  dropped  over  the  side  to 
the  barge.  It  was  an  amusing  sight,  and  they  were 
packed  on  in  a  fearful  and  wonderful  manner.  Once  a 
steamer  accidentally  sank  one  of  these  barges  and  hun- 
dreds were  drowned,  an  accident  which  almost  caused 
international  complications. 

The  first  sight  of  Canton,  the  oldest  city  of  southern 
China,  is  two  gleaming  spires,  topped  with  a  cross.  It  is 
the  French  cathedral,  and  it  stands  for  heroism  and  en- 
durance in  the  past.  Canton  is  so  old  that  "the  mind  of 
man  runneth  not  back."  Once  it  was  enclosed  by  a 
stockade  of  mud  and  bamboo,  and  was  called  "The  City 
of  Rams,"  because,  so  runs  the  legend,  some  two  thousand 
years  ago,  five  men  entered  the  city  mounted  on  rams, 
each  bearing  in  his  hand  an  ear  of  com.  When  one  re- 
flects on  the  age  of  this  city,  Columbus  and  the  caravels 
seem  as  modern  as  an  evening  edition  smelling  of  printer's 
ink. 

The  Honan  tied  up  at  the  wharf  among  hundreds  of 
river-craft,  amid  shouting,  beating  of  drums,  and  blowing 
of  horns,  as  every  small  boat  tried  to  push  its  way  to  the 
steamer.  It  was  chaos  afloat.  And  then  came  Ah  Cum 
Second,  clad  in  the  freshest  of  mourning,  and  presenting 
the  Colonel  with  a  telegram  from  Cook's,  together  with 
his  own  black-edged  card.  He  informed  us  that  he  was 
our  promised  guide,  and,  with  appropriate  solemnity,  that 
his  honorable  father  had  just  passed  away.  The  captain 
told  us  that  Ah  Cum,  Sr.,  had  been  dead  many  years,  but 


158  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

that  his  sons,  who  are  all  guides,  always  wear  new  mourn- 
ing, and  announce  their  parent's  demise  to  their  patrons 
as  a  recent  event.  Truly,  this  is  the  Land  of  Upside 
Down.  Though  I  suppose  anything  that  happens  in 
Canton  this  side  of  a  century  is  a  recent  event. 

The  Shameen  is  an  island,  oval  in  shape,  and  the 
word  means  "sand-bank."  Here  live  all  the  foreigners 
in  Canton,  excepting  a  few  missionaries.  This  island  is 
surrounded  by  the  Pearl  River  and  separated  from  the  city 
itself  by  the  canal.  Over  the  canal  are  several  bridges 
that  lock,  and  a  Legation  guard  is  stationed  at  the  gates, 
which  are  also  locked  at  dark.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
Shameen  have  passports,  and  the  servants  carry  a  certain 
type  of  lanterns  at  night  and  must  also  show  passports 
before  they  may  pass  the  sentries  at  the  gates.  I  wish 
for  a  moat  and  drawbridge  while  we  are  here,  for  I  have 
yet  to  see  a  more  hostile  spirit  toward  foreigners  than  is 
manifested  by  the  Cantonese. 

Upon  leaving  the  steamer,  two  courses  were  open  to 
us  and  either  one  a  way  of  terror:  we  had  the  choice  of 
walking  half  a  square  to  the  bridge  which  crosses  to  the 
Shameen,  through  the  mob  of  screaming,  leering  yellow 
men,  or  to  be  rowed  across  the  canal  to  the  steps  in  front 
of  the  hotel,  through  the  wilderness  of  boats  and  howling 
river-folk.  Walking  anywhere  in  this  city  of  no  plans, 
no  lights,  no  sidewalks,  and  no  sewers  is  an  ordeal,  and 
the  mob  seemed  unfriendly;  but  equally  appalling  was 
the  sight  of  those  tippy  boats  all  "manned  by  women," 
who  jeered  and  pointed  at  us.  I  chose  the  walking, 
thinking  it  better  to  take  the  chances  of  being  trampled 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  159 

in  the  mud,  rather  than  being  drowned  in  the  dirty 
waters  of  the  canal.  The  guide  went  ahead,  clearing  a 
way  for  us,  and  two  coolies  followed,  bringing  our  bag- 
gage. The  yellow  people  hooted  at  us,  making  occasional 
personal  remarks  in  English  that  settled  any  vanity  we 
might  have  cherished  regarding  our  appearance. 

On  the  Shameen  the  fine  Legation  buildings,  the 
French  post-office,  and  the  International  Bank  form  an 
imposing  array,  in  contrast  to  the  low  buildings  of  the  city. 
An  avenue  of  fine  banyan-trees,  the  park  with  its  bright 
flowers,  and  the  walks  along  the  hund,  are  all  attractive, 
despite  the  din  kept  up  by  the  inhabitants  across  the 
canal.  The  sight  of  two  gunboats  flying  the  English  and 
German  flags  added  to  our  comfort. 

This  hotel,  a  two-story  building,  is  built  on  the  canal, 
in  a  row  with  some  of  the  Legation  buildings.  The 
Colonel  is  calling  on  the  American  consul,  and  I  have  at 
last  made  the  bell-boy  understand  that  I  want  some  ink, 
and  he  has  brought  me  a  cake  of  India  ink  on  a  tray  and 
beside  it  a  hair  pen.  I  have  moved  out  on  the  balcony 
upon  which  our  rooms  open,  as  that  is  a  veritable  cave 
of  gloom  and  has  all  the  stage-settings  for  a  first-class 
murder.  A  robber  might  come  out  from  behind  the 
massive  teakwood  furniture  and  cut  throats  for  ten  cents. 
I  feel  safer  out  here,  where  occasionally  a  white  man  goes 
by,  although  the  women  in  the  flower-boats  anchored  in 
the  canal  directly  under  the  balcony  began  hooting  in- 
sults as  soon  as  they  caught  sight  of  "the  foreign  woman," 
and  are  pointing  at  me  with  derisive  shrieks.     The  life  of 


i6o  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

these  sons  and  daughters  of  the  river  is  an  entertaining 
sight. 

Dark,  tumble-down  buildings  line  the  street  of  the 
city  just  across  the  narrow  strip  of  water;  they  are  shops, 
with  their  merchandise  displayed.  One  is  a  butcher's, 
and  strings  of  rats,  birds,  and  parts  of  animals  hang  in 
sickening  array;  live  fish  in  tubs  of  water  are  cruelly  cut 
to  supply  customers,  the  poor  creattu-es  left  alive.  A 
barber  is  plying  his  trade,  shaving,  cutting  hair,  and 
braiding  the  long  queues.  A  consul's  Sedan  chair,  draped 
in  the  colors  of  the  country  which  he  represents,  comes 
into  view,  with  its  bearers  and  runners  at  the  side,  all 
wearing  the  colors  which  adorn  the  chair.  They  come  on 
at  a  trot  across  the  arched  bridge,  shouting  monotonously 
as  they  come. 

All  this  noise  and  a  gray,  drizzling  rain  have  brought 
gloom  to  my  homesick  soul.  I  see,  with  a  sudden  light- 
ening of  heart,  the  red,  white,  and  blue  on  a  chair  in  front 
of  the  hotel,  and  hear  the  Colonel's  voice.  We  are  invited 
to  take  tea  at  5  o'clock  at  the  American  consulate. 

HoTEiv  Victoria,  the  Shameen, 
Canton,  China,  November,  1909. 
We  have  just  returned  from  a  day  spent  in  the  city 
of  Canton.  Three  chairs  and  twelve  chair-bearers  made  a 
respectable  procession.  Ah  Cum  Second  ahead  in  a  fine 
chair,  all  decorated  in  white  (mourning,  perhaps,  for  his 
father) ;  then  I  came  in  a  very  shabby  chair,  as  befits  the 
soulless  female;  then  the  Colonel  in  a  brand-new  one. 


o 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  i6i 

We  went  down  into  the  dark,  evil-smelling  place  among 
the  sullen,  unfriendly  yellow  people,  our  coolies  keeping 
up  an  awful  racket,  clearing  the  narrow  way  for  the  chairs 
to  pass.  Ah  Cum  explained,  when  the  crowd  biu-st  into 
laughter,  that  they  were  "making  to  laugh,"  or,  as  we 
would  say,  "jollying"  the  mob;  and,  indeed,  we  could 
catch  the  gist  of  their  remarks,  as  we  figured  in  them, 
sometimes  in  English,  as  "devils,"  "hogs,"  and  other 
playful  terms  of  welcome.  Dirt  and  disease  were  there, 
and  human  life  seemed  the  cheapest  commodity;  lepers 
ran  by  our  sides  begging  from  us ;  once  we  were  carried 
over  a  young  girl  lying  in  a  pool  of  blood  in  the  middle  of 
the  road.  It  is  not  "custom"  to  give  any  help;  only  au- 
thorized officials  may  take  away  the  injured,  the  criminal, 
or  the  dead ;  the  ' '  proper  persons ' '  must  come  and  attend 
to  her.  One  may  be  an  atheist,  an  infidel,  or  what  you 
will,  but  after  seeing  old  China  any  reasoning  being  must 
give  praise  and  thanksgiving  for  having  been  bom  in  a 
Christian  country. 

In  front  of  every  Uttle  hole  in  the  wall  is  the  family 
joss  and  shrine  of  the  ancestors,  with  incense  burning. 
We  go  through  the  Street  of  Refreshing  Breezes  with  a 
bottle  of  smelling-salts  held  to  our  poor  noses;  through 
the  Street  of  the  Heavenly  Peace,  where  our  coolies  yell 
with  hideous  clamor;  down  Jade  Stone  Street,  through 
the  "Gate  of  Virtue,"  to  the  old  city  gate.  It  reminds 
one  of  Bible  history,  for  here  are  the  lepers,  the  blind,  the 
halt,  and  the  lame,  and  the  weary  camels  outside  the  gate, 
the  drivers  cooking  the  noonday  meal  over  braziers.  We 
went  to  the  temples  of  Confucius,  of  Mohanuned,  of 


i62  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Buddha,  and  of  the  "Queen  of  Heaven";  also  to  the 
temple  of  the  Emperor,  and  to  that  dedicated  to  ' '  litera- 
ture," where,  by  paying  five  cents,  we  turned  a  heavy 
wooden  wheel  and  became  endowed  with  all  learning. 

On  White  Rice  Street  silks  are  sold;  on  Pine  Street, 
exquisite  china;  embroidered  coats  and  fans  on  Drag- 
on Street;  jade  on  Longevity  Lane;  lanterns  on  Pearl 
Street.  Each  street  carried  only  one  Une  of  merchandise 
— no  other. 

Through  the  open  fronts  of  the  shops  we  could  see 
the  workmen  making  the  goods,  which  are  sold  under  the 
same  roof.  In  Coffin  Street  the  workers  seemed  merry 
about  their  tasks.  In  the  Kingfisher's  Feather  Works 
boys  are  trained  for  two  years  or  more  without  pay;  when 
they  have  learned  the  trade  they  earn  about  seventeen 
cents  a  day,  and  after  ten  years  or  so  they  go  blind,  the 
work  is  so  terrible  a  strain  on  the  eyesight.  The  feathers 
of  the  blue  major,  a  bird  that  is  brought  from  Formosa, 
are  prepared,  cut,  and  cemented  on  filigree  silver,  making 
a  beautiful  enamel  when  finished. 

Next  Day. 

This  morning  we  have  been  out  again,  under  the  stern 
rule  of  Ah  Cum,  who  orders  us  about,  after  the  manner  of 
an  old-time  sergeant  with  a  raw  recruit. 

"Come  along.  See  old  clock,"  he  commands.  I  am 
tired  of  old  things.  Through  the  city,  up  a  hill,  into  a 
small  temple  near  the  great  wall  our  search  leads  us,  and 
I  am  just  looking  about  for  that  tiresome  old  clock  when 
Ah  Ctun  pulls  at  my  sleeve,  saying,  "Missy,  old  clock; 


Old  Church  at  Baler,  Luzon 


Head-hunterp,  Baler,  Luzon 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  163 

thousand  years  old,"  pointing  at  some  jars,  which  I  had 
nearly  stumbled  over.  The  water  runs  from  one  stone 
jar  into  others,  a  piece  of  cork  in  the  lower  jar,  rising  as 
the  water  flows  in,  noting  the  hours — to  a  Chinese  mind. 

Next  he  piloted  us  to  the  jail,  where  the  prisoners 
(thin,  horrible  creatures,  loaded  with  chains)  begged  for 
"cumshaw."  Ah  Cum  said  these  poor  wretches  were  in 
prison  for  slight  oflfenses,  such  as  stealing  rice  or  a  pair  of 
straw  shoes. 

"What  would  they  do  with  a  real  criminal?"  I  asked. 

"Oh!  cut  off  his  head,"  replied  Ah  Cum.     "I  show." 

We  protested  that  we  did  not  wish  to  be  "shown," 
but  Ah  Cum  intends  to  do  his  full  duty  by  us,  and  so  off 
to  the  Street  of  the  Execution  we  went.  We  had  already 
seen,  heard,  and  smelled  aU  that  we  could  endure,  but, 
for  all  that,  we  were  pushed  into  the  chairs,  the  poles 
knocking  a  way  through  the  crowds  of  beggars,  and  were 
carried  into  a  noisome  alley,  where  a  horrible  old  man 
came  to  meet  us,  bowing  low.  Ah  Cum  waved  his  hand 
and  presented  the  executioner — the  official  cutter-off-of- 
heads !     My  own  head  felt  insecm-e  enough. 

The  executioner  apologized  politely  for  not  having 
anyone  handy  to  behead  for  us.  He  pointed  to  the 
ground,  however. 

"See!  Cut  him — two" — holding  up  two  dirty  fin- 
gers— ' '  yesterday — pirates ! ' ' 

There  were  two  pools  of  fresh  blood.  I  jumped  back 
and  scrambled  into  my  chair,  while  the  Colonel  came  at  a 
dignified  pace,  as  one  accustomed  to  the  cutting  off 
of  heads. 


164  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Victoria  Hotei^,  the  Sha-mien, 
Canton,  China,  November,  1909. 

In  our  morning  and  evening  walks  over  the  Shameen 
we  have  been  sm-prised  at  the  number  of  singing  birds 
that  make  the  late  and  early  hours  musical  in  this  strange 
and  ancient  place.  To-night  we  sat  late  upon  the  bal- 
cony, which  opens  with  huge  double  glass  doors  into  our 
room,  watching  the  lights  on  the  flower-boats  below  us 
in  the  canal,  hundreds  of  swaying,  glowing  lanterns,  as  in 
some  weird  carnival,  and  the  slow  passing  of  the  dragon- 
boats,  which  thread  their  way  back  and  forth  among  the 
innumerable  anchored  craft.  Fireworks  splash  vividly 
against  the  blackness,  and  there  is  continual  uproar  of 
trumpet-calls  and  the  beating  of  drums;  for  by  all  of 
these  ceremonies  is  the  river  god  constantly  to  be  propi- 
tiated. From  the  guard-house  at  the  gate  near  the  hotel 
come  alarming  yells  and  the  clamor  of  gongs,  but  the 
proprietor  assures  us  that  this  is  the  signal  of  the  Chinese 
police,  which  tells  the  inhabitants  that  all  is  well.  The 
noise,  and  the  fact  that  not  a  door  in  this  place  will  lock, 
banished  sleep  for  me  last  night ;  perhaps  to-night  I  shall 
be  tired  enough  to  sleep  through  it  all 

This  morning  we  went  to  see  the  Temple  of  the  Five 
Hundred  Genii,  the  Place  of  Flowers,  the  Five-storied 
Pagoda,  and  did  some  shopping  besides 

The  Temple  of  the  Five  Hundred  Genii  is  dedicated  to 
the  five  good  spirits  of  which  I  wrote  you — who  visited 
Canton  two  thousand  years  ago,  mounted  on  rams. 
This  temple  contains  five  htmdred  images,  some  of  which 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  165 

we  saw,  including  one  of  Marco  Polo,  who  looked  like  a 
pirate  in  a  shovel-hat.  Ah  Cum  pointed  to  his  image, 
saying,  "He  much  please  American."  We  were  not  suf- 
ficiently elated  to  satisfy  Ah  Cum,  however,  so  he  took 
us  back  to  Marco  Polo,  adding  severely,  "He  great 
American." 

From  the  temple  we  made  our  way  to  the  Gate  of 
Virtue,  down  Bird  Cage  Walk,  where  hundreds  of  little 
birds  in  bamboo  cages  are  offered  for  sale,  and  thence  to 
the  Examination  HaUs,  which  wfe  entered  by  the  Dragon 
Gate.  Here  a  narrow  way  passes  between  twelve  thou- 
sand tiny  cells,  where  the  Chinese  students  must  spend 
two  days  and  nights,  each  composing  a  poem,  in  prepara- 
tion for  the  examiners  who  come  from  Pekin,  and  whose 
visit  is  a  great  event.  If  all  their  poems  are  declined  as 
politely  as  this  one,  which  I  found  in  a  Hong-Kong  paper, 
the  feelings  of  the  authors  cannot  be  hurt.  This  is  the 
note  of  rejection,  printed  by  the  Chinese  editor : 

'We  have  read  your  manuscript  with  infinite  deUght. 
By  the  sacred  ashes  of  our  ancestors,  we  must  swear  that 
we  have  never  read  such  a  splendid  piece  of  writing. 
But  if  we  printed  it,  his  Majesty  the  Emperor,  our  most 
high  and  mighty  ruler,  would  order  us  to  take  this  as 
a  model,  and  never  print  anything  inferior.  And  this 
would  not  be  possible  in  less  than  a  thousand  years.  We 
regret  to  return  your  divine  manuscript,  and  ask  one 
thousand  pardons. ' ' 

After  the  Examination  Halls,  we  went  to  see  the  Em- 
peror's temple,  which  has  a  yellow  tiled  roof,  and  a  tablet 
in  front,  which  bears  this  inscription:    "May  the  Em- 


1 66  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

peror  live  a  thousand  times  a  thousand  years."  A 
smaller  tablet  only  asks  that  the  Empress  may  live  a 
tenth  as  long. 

To  me  the  temples  of  China  have  not  the  beauty  of 
those  of  Japan,  although  the  ancestral  temple  of  the  Chun 
family  is  most  interesting,  with  carvings  of  wood  and 
stone,  unsurpassed  by  anything  we  have  seen  in  China. 
From  this  lovely  and  peaceful  shrine  we  went  down  into 
the  narrow  streets,  through  the  pushing  yellow  mob,  over 
pools  of  stagnant  water,  and  through  a  crumbling  gate  in 
the  old  wall — ^walls  which  are  the  wonder  of  the  world, 
and  yet  so  inadequate,  so  useless!  Truly,  "men,  and  not 
walls,  guard  a  city." 

I  remember  with  a  thrill  of  pride  the  answer  of  a  patri- 
otic American  lady  to  a  Chinese  minister's  remark  that 
America  had  no  Great  Wall. 

"Oh,  yes,  it  has!"  replied  the  lady,  quickly.  "Our 
wall  is  made  of  soldiers  and  sailors,  and  every  man's  a 
brick." 

From  the  Five-storied  Pagoda  we  had  a  fine  view  of 
Canton  and  the  shipping  in  the  river.  The  city  is  hemmed 
in  by  acres  and  acres  of  graves — ^victims  of  the  plague 
alone  tenanting  a  great  plain.  In  the  top  story  of  this 
pagoda  the  generals  of  the  Chinese  armies  were  wont  to 
draw  up  their  plans  of  battle.  We  wondered  if  five 
flights  of  winding  stairs  served  to  protect  them  from  the 
newspaper  reporters. 


Filipino  Girl,  Angeles,  Luzon 


Side  of  Porch,  Officers'  Bungalow,  Philippines 
Angeles,  Luzon 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  167 

HoTEiv  Victoria,  the  Shamben, 
Canton,  China,  November,  1909. 

The  son  of  a  Chinese  merchant  whom  we  met  in  our 
travels  gave  us  a  letter  of  introduction  to  his  father,  and 
to-day  we  went  to  present  it.  On  the  way  we  saw  a  wed- 
ding procession,  but  as  the  curtains  of  the  Sedan  chairs 
were  drawn,  all  we  could  see  were  the  camphor  wood 
chests  containing  the  bride's  trousseau,  covered  with 
gorgeous  embroideries  blazoned  with  the  family  crest. 
They  were  carried  by  coolies,  as  are  all  burdens  in  China, 
slung  between  two  poles. 

Presently  our  chair-bearers  subdued  their  cries  and 
made  way  for  a  funeral  to  pass,  while  we  stepped  into  a 
jade-shop  to  give  room  to  the  procession.  First  came 
hired  mourners  in  masks,  then  more  men  dressed  in  white, 
with  long  poles  topped  with  bouquets  of  white  paper 
flowers;  then  Sedan  chairs,  in  which  were  carried  fruits, 
vegetables,  fishes,  fowls,  and  a  whole  dressed  pig — food 
for  the  soul  beyond  the  grave.  A  Chinaman  was  once 
asked  by  an  American  tourist,  "When  do  you  expect  the 
dead  to  come  back  and  eat  the  food?"  and  replied,  wit- 
tily, "When  your  dead  come  back  to  smell  the  flowers." 
A  live  chicken  was  carried  ahead  of  the  coffin  to  convey 
the  soul  to  the  grave ;  the  coffin  itself  was  mahogany,  oval 
in  shape,  and  carried  in  an  upright  position,  the  two  sons 
of  the  dead  man  walking  directly  behind,  clad  in  rich 
white  robes.  Their  destination,  to  which  we  followed, 
was  the  Place  of  Flowers — a  small  paved  park,  shut  in  by 
a  high  stone  wall,  with  heavy  iron  gates,  which  took  two 


1 68  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

coolies  to  oj)en  and  shut.  In  each  court  were  small  rooms 
filled  with  coffins  standing  upright,  awaiting  interment. 
There  were  rows  of  urns,  also  containing  flowers  and 
shrubs,  the  latter  trimmed  to  resemble  the  faces  of  gods 
and  dragons  and  decorated  with  paper  teeth  and  glass 
eyes.  The  only  nice  thing  about  the  place  was  the  quiet 
and  the  shutting-out  of  beggars  at  the  gate. 

The  house  of  the  merchant  was  set  in  a  garden,  the 
red- tiled  roof  visible  over  the  top  of  a  high  wall  with  an 
ornate  gate.  The  merchant,  a  pleasant,  elderly  gentle- 
man, met  us  at  the  door,  gorgeously  robed  in  purple  bro- 
cade and  pale-blue  silk  trousers,  his  black  cap  ornamented 
with  a  button  on  top.  He  shook  his  own  hands  vigor- 
ously by  way  of  welcome,  and  politely  waved  us  into  a 
reception-room,  around  the  walls  of  which  stood  carved 
arm-chairs  of  black  wood,  inlaid  with  colored  stones  and 
shells.  Beside  each  chair  was  a  shding-table  with  several 
tops,  half  opened.  I  climbed  into  one  of  these  enormous 
chairs,  which  was  so  deep  my  feet  did  not  touch  the  floor, 
and  at  once  a  servant  placed  a  tiny  stool,  covered  with  old 
brocade,  beneath  them.  My  American  walking-shoes  did 
not  seem  to  suit  that  lovely  stool,  and  I  wished  I  might 
change  them  for  soft  slippers,  as  they  do  in  Japan. 

Another  servant  appeared  with  a  tray  inlaid  with 
mother-of-pearl  and  shells,  bearing  Canton  cups  filled 
with  clear,  yellow  tea,  also  rice-cakes,  dishes  of  preserved 
ginger,  fruits,  and  pink  candy. 

Ah  Cum  acted  as  interpreter,  our  host  politely  in- 
quiring after  our  healths,  and  if  we  were  from  "America 
or  Ohio." 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  169 

After  we  had  our  tea,  we  were  conducted  to  a  high 
tower,  where  I  expected  to  be  beheaded,  but  instead  saw 
an  excellent  view  of  the  city,  looking  down  on  a  wilder- 
ness of  roofs,  each  with  its  water- jar,  which  is  the  only 
provision  against  fire  in  Canton.  Then  our  snuling  host 
took  us  down  into  the  garden,  of  which  he  is  evidently 
proud,  where  many  China  asters  bloomed.  When  I  said 
that  we  had  the  same  kind  of  flowers  in  America,  his  ex- 
pression was  politely  disbelieving. 

In  the  room  where  the  ancestral  tablets  are  kept  joss- 
sticks  burned,  and  in  a  closet  with  beautiful  doors,  red 
and  heavily  carved,  were  many  brocaded  bags,  each  con- 
taining its  treasure,  a  wonderful  ivory  carving  or  a  vase 
of  marvelous  color  and  shape.  We  reached  a  common 
ground  with  the  merchant  in  our  admiration  of  his  de- 
lightful possessions.  I  wonder  if  the  Chinese,  who  look 
at  their  treasures  only  upon  state  occasions,  do  not  enjoy 
them  more  than  we  Americans  do  our  curios,  which  are 
left  always  on  view. 

As  we  left  this  room,  passing  through  a  small  hall  opyen 
to  the  roof,  with  a  closed  balcony  around  the  second 
floor,  a  blind  opened  inward,  and  two  women  peered  down 
upon  us.  When  our  host  was  not  looking,  I  waved  my 
hand  and  smiled;  they  smiled  back,  one  of  them  lifting 
her  hand;  then  both  disappeared.  It  was  the  only  smile 
or  kind  look  I  have  had  from  a  native  woman  in  China. 

To-morrow  we  go  back  to  Hong-Kong,  which  will 
seem  a  model  of  sanitation,  I  have  no  doubt,  after  the 
filthiness  of  this  ancient  city. 


170  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

St.  George's  House, 
Hong-Kong,  China,  November,  1909. 

We  took  the  night  boat  from  Canton,  with  Ah  Cum 
on  the  pier  to  see  us  off.  The  purser  was  most  attentive, 
giving  us  his  best  state-room,  with  elaborate  bowing. 
This  was  so  unusual  in  a  Chinaman  that  we  wondered  at 
it,  but  the  explanation  was  plain  when  he  handed  me  a 
card,  which  read,  "Reserve  first  cabin  for  Hong-Kong  on 
steamer  leaving  Canton  at  night  for  Lord  and  Lady 

M ."     Thus  all  unwittingly  honors  were  thrust  upon 

us.  We  tried  to  explain  our  untitled  estate  and  change 
into  the  next  cabin,  but  the  purser  was  unbeHeving  and 
refused  to  make  any  change.     We  were  Lord  and  Lady 

M .     Later  a  young  and  attractive-looking  couple 

came  aboard  and  were  promptly  put  into  the  second-best 
state-room.  They  were  the  real  thing,  we  felt  sure;  but, 
as  we  all  left  the  boat  at  daylight,  the  mystery  remained 
unsolved. 

It  is  Sunday  afternoon,  and  I  am  sitting  out  on  the 
balcony,  while  the  Colonel  has  gone  for  a  climb  up  to  the 
peak.  An  English  band  is  playing  in  the  barrack-ground 
below;  across  the  narrow  street  the  vesper  service  is 
being  held  in  a  Catholic  church,  and  I  hear  the  music  of 
the  pipe-organ;  in  an  adjoining  music-room  a  homesick 
American  is  singing,  "  My  country,  'tis  of  thee,"  a  medley 
of  sound ;  while  another  homesick  American  is  trying  not 
to  blot  this  letter  with  tears. 

Yesterday  we  walked  to  the  electric  cars,  managing  to 
get  by  the  insistent  chair-coolies,  and  went  to  the  French 
convent  school,  where  beautiful  lace  is  made.     The  con- 


U.  S.  A.  Transport  Being  Coaled  in  Nagasaki  Harbor  by  Japanese  Women 


Shopping  Street,  Yokohama,  Japan 
Sacred  Mountains,  Nikko,  Japan 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  171 

vent  is  a  rambling  old  house,  behind  a  stone  wall,  with  a 
massive  gateway.  When  we  rang  the  clanging  bell,  a 
smiling  sister  came  out  with  a  bunch  of  keys  which  Blue- 
beard might  have  carried,  and  unlocked  the  gate.  An- 
other sister  took  us  over  the  lower  floors  and  into  the 
work-rooms,  where  girls  were  making  the  lovely  and 
inexpensive  laces. 

From  the  convent  we  took  Sedan  chairs  and  went  to 
"Happy  Valley,"  where  are  the  golf  club,  the  tennis- 
grounds,  and  a  race-track,  while  adjoining  are  the  grave- 
yards of  Hong-Kong.  A  monument  to  English  sailors 
stands  in  front  of  the  club-house. 

"Sailors,  here  be  dreams  for  you — 

Fortune,  fame,  and  honor,  too; 
******* 

Also,  in  a  vale  of  peace. 

Dreams  of  love,  when  war  shall  cease." 

As  soon  as  we  started  to  leave  the  chairs  the  coolies, 
although  they  were  enriched  by  full  pay  and  a  tip  apiece, 
raised  the  usual  howl.  A  young  Englishman  stepped  out 
of  the  club  and  scattered  them  with  a  sharp  word.  He 
raised  his  hat,  saying,  "I  say,  they  are  a  beastly  shame, 
you  know,"  and  courteously  directed  us  to  the  various 
sights  of  "Happy  Valley." 

To-morrow  we  are  to  set  sail  across  the  China  Sea 
in  a  rolling  tub  of  a  boat,  the  Zafiro.  Around  Formosa 
and  Manila  are  bred  the  typhoons,  and  we  may  have  an 
exciting  voyage,  although,  fortunately,  it  lasts  only 
three  days. 


172  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 


IX. 

CHRISTMAS  IN  THE  TROPICS. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Philippine  Islands, 

November,  1909. 

Home  again,  under  our  own  palm-  and  fire-tree  and 
among  our  own  rats,  bats,  and  lizards  once  more!  " Poor 
things,  but  mine  own ! " 

We  left  Hong-Kong  on  the  only  boat  coming  our  way — 
a  wretched  little  tub,  in  which  for  three  long  days  and 
nights  we  were  tossed  between  high  heaven  and  low  sea 
in  the  tail-end  of  a  typhoon.  Perhaps  we  weren  't  glad  to 
see  the  harbor-lights  in  Manila  Bay!  Manila  looked 
positively  American  after  China;  even  clean  and  sweet- 
smelling  by  comparison.  I  felt  almost  affectionate  to- 
ward our  little  brown  Filipinos,  comparing  them  with  the 
Cantonese  Chinese. 

The  night  train  brought  us  to  camp,  where  the  house- 
boys,  in  the  freshest  of  white  clothing,  met  us  with 
smiling  faces.  Our  bungalow  glowed  with  lights,  a  late 
supper  awaited  us,  and  Ah  Yan  flew  about  with  hos- 
pitable  ardor.     The   orderly  brought  us   an   armful   of 


A  Fountain,  Nikku,  Japan 
Rebuilding  a  Corner  cf  a  Temple,  Nikko,  Japan 


Wedding  in  Tokio;  Carrying  the  Bride's  Trousseau  to  Her  New  Home 
Bridge  to  a  Side  Entrance,  Royal  Palace,  Tokio,  Japan 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  173 

mail.     We  are  glad  to  have  China  and  Japan  out  of  our 
system,  for  in  two  months  we  are  to  sail  for  home. 

The  tea-tray  has  just  been  brought  in,  and  I  am  using 
a  silver  kettle  from  Korea,  set  in  a  carved  cocoanut-shell. 
It  is  hundreds  of  years  old.  A  bronze  god  from  Japan 
lights  the  kettle,  the  candle  hidden  in  his  big,  round  belly; 
a  vase  of  copper  inlaid  with  tiny  silver  birds  holds  yellow 
lilies ;  and  a .  temple-hanging  of  Chinese  embroidery,  at 
which  Ah  Yan  looks  respectfully,  murmuring,  "  Velly  old, 
Missy?"  covers  the  table.  These  are  some  of  the  spoils 
collected  during  our  journey. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
I/UZON,  Philippine;  Isi^ands, 

November,  1909. 

It  is  Thanksgiving  Day,  and  very  hot.  Everybody  is 
wearing  thin,  white  clothes  and  trying  to  think  of  ice  and 
snow  and  feel  hungry  for  turkey  and  plum  -  pudding. 
Out  on  the  parade-ground  the  soldiers  are  having  a  fine 
time,  playing  ball  and  polo  and  other  games.  Pedro,  our 
house-boy,  has  gone  to  the  ball-game,  resplendent  in  new 
green  velvet  slippers,  white  trousers,  and  a  pale  yellow 
gauze  shirt.     He  longs  to  "go  'Mericky  with  Senora." 

Some  young  friends  of  ours  here  in  camp  have  been 
somewhat  dismayed  at  the  proposed  visit  of  an  elderly  and 
timid  aunt.  They  have  very  dutifully  written  her  to 
come,  but  Nephew  slipped  into  the  letter  a  photograph 
of  a  group  of  wild  Negritos,  which  he  labeled  "  Our  Island 
Helpers."     "Will  Aunty  come?"  I  wonder. 


174  -^w  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Everything  is  upset,  making  ready  to  accommodate 
the  incoming  regiment,  which,  by  a  sudden  change  of  or- 
ders, is  due  to  arrive  here  a  month  or  six  weeks  before 
this  command  can  sail  for  the  States.  Half  of  the  officers 
are  vacating  their  houses  and  moving  in  with  the  other 
half — two  families  to  a  bungalow — to  make  room  for  the 
new-comers.  The  houses  thus  vacated  are  cleaned.  Gov- 
ernment furniture  put  in,  and  some  comforts  loaned,  so 
that  the  families  of  the  officers  will  have  comfortable 
abiding-places  to  go  directly  into  after  their  long  ocean 
voyage.  A  "mess"  has  been  started,  with  Chinese  serv- 
ants, and  what  has  been  called  a  "chow-wagon"  is  to 
be  run  for  the  convenience  of  the  ladies  and  children,  who 
will  go  out  for  their  meals  until  permanent  houses  can 
be  assigned. 

The  soldiers  will  occupy  tents  on  the  parade-ground, 
each  regiment  taking  turns  living  in  tents  and  barracks. 

We  have  moved  over  to  the  bungalow  next  door  with 
our  old  friends,  and  are  keeping  house  together,  dividing 
our  cares  and  doubUng  our  pleasures.  All  are  filled  with 
the  spirit  of  hospitality,  and  the  prosp>ect  of  going  home 
so  soon  has  lighted  every  face  with  joy,  from  the  com- 
manding officer  down  to  the  newest  recruit. 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Philippine  Islands, 

December,  1909. 
Hurrah !     The  upheaval  has  occurred !     The  incoming 
regiment  has  marched  in,  with  flags  flying  and  drums 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  175 

beating;  and  yellow  tents  have  sprung  up  like  mushrooms 
on  the  parade-ground. 

An  officer  of  "Ours"  was  sent  to  Manila  to  meet  the 
transport  and  to  wire  the  names  of  all  the  families  who 
were  coming  to  this  camp.  We  were  all  out  on  the  walk 
when  the  regiment  detrained  to  watch  the  soldiers  form 
in  Une  and  march  into  camp,  escorted  by  our  regiment. 
The  new-comers  marched  behind  our  men,  each  band 
playing  in  turn.  On  the  parade-ground  they  formed  into 
two  lines,  facing  each  other.  The  commanding  officer 
gave  the  order,  "Present  arms!"  the  new  regiment  re- 
turned the  salute,  and  then  both  marched  off  to  tents 
and  barracks. 

Bach  troop  of  "Ours"  entertained  a  troop  of  the  new 
regiment  for  luncheon.  Soldiers  dearly  love  a  guest  and 
to  meet  other  fighting-men  from  different  organizations. 

As  for  the  women,  we  were  greatly  thrilled  by  the 
coming  of  the  long-talked-of  relief.  Really,  we  could 
have  hugged  the  khaki-clad  men  from  "God's  country," 
for  their  coming  means  that  we  are  going  home! 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 

I^UZON,  PhIIvIPPINE  Isi.,ands, 

December,  1909. 
All  of  the  field  officers  have  gone  on  a  "test  ride,"  in- 
cluding the  major-doctor  and  the  chaplain,  both  men  of 
peace  and  both  very  fat.  They  are  much  exercised  over 
the  order  making  them  wear  belts  and  pistols.  The 
doctor  objected,  insisting  that,  according  to  the  laws  of 


176  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

the  Geneva  Convention,  he  is  a  non-combatant,  and 
should  not  go  armed.  The  chaplain  also  objects,  al- 
though many  times  during  the  insurrection  he  held 
Sunday  services  armed  and  ready  to  fight,  if  need  be. 
However,  they  have  all  trotted  off,  armed  to  the  teeth, 
for  a  three-days  hike,  to  satisfy  the  powers  that  they  are 
able  to  perform  military  duty.  This  "test  ride"  catches 
very  few  cavalrymen.  They  have  been  on  the  trot  all 
their  service,  and  are  well-seasoned  riders. 

We  have  two  "sky  pilots"  now.  The  new  chaplain 
is  a  Catholic  priest,  very  clever  and  interesting.  The  two 
chaplains,  though  of  widely  differing  creeds,  work  most 
harmoniously  together  for  the  good  of  the  camp. 

Mrs.  G — - —  and  I  are  alone  while  our  warrior  husbands 
are  off  on  the  ride,  and  I  thought  it  best  to  lock  up  the 
bungalow  at  night.  We  might  as  well  have  attempted  to 
lock  up  the  world  itself.  Nothing  even  shut.  This  house 
is  open  to  the  heavens,  the  earth,  and  the  passer-by,  al- 
though it  is  discreetly  screened  with  curtains  by  day  and 
shutters  by  night.  A  mounted  sentinel  passes  by  once 
every  hour,  so  there  is  really  no  danger,  I  supp>ose.  Nev- 
ertheless, my  slumbers  were  not  of  the  soundest,  for  a 
mosquito-netting  over  the  bed  does  not  give  the  sense  of 
security  one  might  imagine  it  would,  and  I  kept  wondering 
if  Negritos  might  be  softly  crawling  through  the  open 
window-spaces. 

My  good  house-boy  has  made  his  farewell  bow  before 
departing  to  an  officer  of  the  new  command,  to  whom  we 
recommended  him,  and  we  are  feeling  as  though  we  had 
lost  our  nurse.     His  farewell  call  was  made  in  gorgeous 


One  Gateway  to  Imperial  Palace,  Tokio,  Ja;)an 
Great  Buddha,  Kaniakura,  Jaj^an 


A  Temple  and  Steps,  Kioto,  Japan 
Japanese  Soldiers,  Tokio,  Japan 


Thousand-year  Clock,  Canton,  China 
Along  the  Pearl  River 


Old  Mandarin  Garden,  Old  Shanghai,  China 
A  Temple,  Canton,  China 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  177 

raiment — red  velvet  slippers  (tan  socks,  alack !)  and  a  new 
shirt  of  pink  pina-cloth,  cross-barred  with  pale  blue,  and 
very  stiffly  starched  as  to  shirt-tail !  He  was  much  down- 
cast, and  repeated,  with  an  expressive  shrug  of  the 
shoulder:  "No  can  do  for  Americanos.  New  officer 
no  good." 

"Who  make  Seiiora's  room  clean?"  he  asked,  and  tore 
my  heart  by  handing  in  the  shoe-polish,  saying,  dolefully, 
''-^he  Commandante's  shoes." 

"Adios,  Senora;  I  go,"  and  departed  with  a  low  bow. 

My  lavandera,  a  comfortable  person,  has  just  stepped 
quietly  in,  her  smooth,  brown  arms  piled  high  with 
freshly  ironed  clothing.  Her  voice  is  low  and  musical, 
and  her  costume  brightens  the  room.  A  vivid  red  skirt, 
the  train  tucked  up  through  an  underskirt  band,  displays 
her  finely  shaped,  sturdy  legs  and  small  feet;  a  white 
sleeveless  garment  covers  her  body,  and  she  wears  a  short 
pink  waist  with  voluminous  sleeves,  which  she  removes 
when  she  works,  leaving  her  shapely  neck  and  arms  bare. 
The  Filipino  women  walk  well,  stepping  lightly,  holding 
the  head  high  and  the  body  erect.  Carrying  burdens  on 
the  head  is  partly  responsible  for  this. 

At  sundown  it  is  a  pleasant  sight  to  see  the  servants 
in  their  motley  costumes  leaving  the  officers'  quarters  to 
go  home  after  their  day's  work.  They  pass  across  the 
long  sandy  parade-ground  like  a  flock  of  brilliant  birds, 
delightfully  vivid  against  the  background  of  pale  yellow 
and  the  dark  green  of  the  banana  grove  beyond. 


178  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Phiuppine  Islands, 

December,  1909. 

It  is  hard  to  realize  that  yesterday  was  really  Christ- 
mas. We  followed  home  customs  as  far  as  we  could,  but 
the  tropic  variations  on  the  time-honored  festivities  em- 
phasized poignantly  the  strangeness  of  this  alien  land. 
It  was  hot,  too — a  burning,  blazing  day. 

We  had  a  strenuous  week  getting  a  Christmas-tree 
and  presents  for  all  the  ninety-five  children  on  this  reser- 
vation without  regard  to  race,  color,  or  "previous  condi- 
tion of  servitude."  Everyone  had  a  finger  in  the  pie. 
The  officers  gave  the  money,  and  the  arrangements  were 
made  by  a  committee  of  five  ladies,  two  of  whom  went  to 
Manila  to  buy  the  presents,  while  the  two  chaplains  took 
a  detachment  of  soldiers  and  drove  many  miles  before 
they  found  a  tree  which  would  answer  the  purpose.  They 
secured  a  graceful  bamboo  that  filled  one  end  of  the 
school-room,  and  the  soldiers  decorated  it  with  green 
vines  and  plants.  Flags  and  lanterns  added  the  note  of 
color.  A  fat,  jolly  lieutenant  was  Santa  Claus,  clad  in 
the  major-doctor's  red  eiderdown  bath-robe,  high  yellow 
cavalry  boots  and  spurs,  cap  and  gauntlets,  with  a  wig 
and  beard  of  cotton.  He  was  a  brilliant,  martial  Santa 
Claus — and  an  exceedingly  warm  one.  The  children  loved 
him  and  had  a  merry  time. 

On  Christmas  morning  high  mass  was  celebrated  in 
the  chapel,  the  altar  service  being  loaned  to  the  new  chap- 
lain by  the  padre  at  the  beautiful  old  church  in  Angeles. 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  179 

We  are  staying  now  with  our  neighbors,  as  I  think  I 
told  you,  and  at  dinner  the  FiHpino  cook  was  instructed 
to  Hght  brandy  on  the  EngHsh  plum-pudding  (canned)  and 
to  serve  it  blazing  as  a  surprise ;  and  indeed  we  were  sur- 
prised. The  turkey  was  presented  to  our  host  wrapped  in 
blue  flames,  to  the  imminent  danger  of  the  hair  of  the 
house-boy ;  the  vegetables  and  salad  were  also  wreathed 
with  fire,  and  the  pudding,  of  course,  sizzled  merrily.  In 
one  sense,  our  Christmas  dinner  was  a  light  repast. 

One  of  the  soldiers  who  has  a  family  living  in  camp 
lost  a  baby  girl  on  Christmas  Day.  We  drove  to  Nipa- 
ville,  a  mile  distant,  to  a  small  shack  with  a  grass  roof,  in 
front  of  which  stood  a  Red  Cross  ambulance.  A  few 
American  flowers  were  struggling  to  grow  in  the  sun-baked 
yard,  and  through  the  open  door  we  could  see  the  small 
pine  box,  covered  with  bright  tropical  blossoms  and  a  tiny 
wreath  of  rosebuds,  resting  on  a  table. 

The  doctor's  young  wife  sang  "Peace,  Perfect  Peace," 
and  the  chaplain  read  from  the  fourteenth  chapter  of  the 
Gospel  of  St.  John.  We  followed  the  forlorn  little  pro- 
cession through  the  camp,  past  the  barracks,  where  the 
soldiers,  seeing  the  small  box  over  which  a  woman  bent 
weeping,  took  off  their  caps  and  waited  in  silence  until  we 
passed;  across  a  rice-field  and  through  the  banana  grove 
to  "a  green  hill  far  away,"  which  is  "God's  Acre."  A 
fence  encloses  a  dozen  or  so  graves,  marked  with  white 
boards,  lettered  in  black.  Two  tall  rain- trees  mingle 
their  branches  in  one  comer  of  the  enclosure.  Black 
hawks  circled  overhead;  a  nightingale  sang  sweetly,  its 
song  rising  like  a  prayer ;  the  sun  burned  pitilessly ;  and  the 


i8o  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

Filipino  grave-diggers,  with  eyes  round  and  dark,  looked 
on  curiously  at  the  "Americano"  funeral.  The  dust  was 
on  our  lips — we  felt  the  "outcast  children  of  the  world." 

Camp  Stotsenburg, 
Luzon,  Philippine  Islands, 

January,  1910. 

Happy  New  Year  to  you !  No  use  wishing  happiness 
to  us,  who  are  so  soon  to  set  sail  for  home. 

Last  night  the  new  regiment,  who  are  now  settled, 
gave  a  farewell  party  to  the  home-goers,  who  have  now  the 
status  of  departing  guests.  The  club-house  was  abloom 
with  flowers — ferns  and  orchids,  white  Ulies,  red  hibiscus, 
and  vines — and  flags  and  streamers  of  red,  white,  and  blue. 
In  the  supper-room  a  round  table,  with  yellow  lilies  in  a 
brass  chow-bowl  and  shaded  Ughts,  did  honor  to  the 
cavalry  colors.  An  immense  yellow  Chinese  umbrella 
hung  from  the  middle  rafter,  and  from  every  point  yellow 
chiffon  was  caught  to  the  table  in  huge  soft  bows.  The 
ladies  loaned  their  best  linen,  glass,  china,  and  silver  to 
make  the  table  beautiful. 

The  Bishop  and  the  Governor  came  from  Manila  for 
the  New  Year's  party,  and  Chxu*ch  and  State  lent  them- 
selves to  the  jollity  of  the  occasion. 

At  12  o'clock  four  trumpeters  in  full-dress  uniform 
stepped  into  the  dancing-room  and  blew  "taps,"  followed 
by  "reveille"  to  the  New  Year. 

This  morning  at  dawn  the  soldiers  broke  into  shouts 
and  whooping  and  great  hilarity — and  fourteen  hundred 
men  can  make  some  noise!     The  band  marched  around 


Shanghai,  China 
The  Bund 


On  the  Bund,  Shanghai,  China 
Five  Hundred  Genii  Temple,  Canton,  China 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  i8i 

the  camp,  playing  stirring  music.  It  is  thrilling  to 
awaken  to  the  sound  of  "The  Star-Spangled  Banner"  ten 
thousand  miles  from  home. 

At  noon  on  New  Year's  Day  it  is  the  custom  in  all 
of  Uncle  Sam's  camps  and  posts  for  the  officers,  in  full- 
dress  uniform  and  side-arms,  to  call  on  the  commanding 
officer.  The  ladies  assisted  in  receiving,  and  though  it 
was  a  hot  day,  and  the  egg-nog  had  to  be  made  with 
canned  cream,  we  were  a  happy  lot  of  people ;  for  are  we 
not  going  home?  That  joyful  certainty  keeps  us  all  gay, 
despite  minor  tribulations. 

It  is  a  problem  to  plan  for  our  long  homeward  journey. 
Very  few  of  us  have  clothing  of  the  proper  kind  for  ship- 
board and  a  return  to  the  States  in  mid-winter,  as  it 
cannot  be  bought  in  the  Orient;  and  the  climate  and  in- 
sects have  destroyed  most  of  the  hats,  gloves,  shoes,  and 
other  apparel  which  we  had  when  we  came.  Army  women 
are  adorably  generous,  and  the  new-comers  vie  with  one 
another  in  giving  their  best  to  supply  our  needs.  Thanks 
to  their  assistance,  we  shall  be  presentable  as  well  as  com- 
fortable. It  is  a  charming  custom  in  the  Army  to  "pass 
it  on,"  and  the  kindly  deed  and  loving  spirit  are  "bread 
cast  upon  the  waters,"  which  sometimes  returns  veritable 
cream-puffs. 

In  Nagasaki  can  be  purchased  gloves  and  some 
woolens,  for  which  we  shall  have  to  pay  a  high  duty  to  our 
dear  Uncle  Sam.  It  seems  rather  cruel  to  exact  a  tithe 
from  his  own  returning  blood-relatives  for  the  clothing 
and  household  goods  which  they  are  obliged  to  purchase 
while  working  for  their  uncle  in  foreign  parts.  These 
foreign  goods  are  all  there  is  to  buy,  and  are  designed  only 


i82  An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines 

to  serve  until  the  "home-grown"  kind  are  available. 
The  spectacle  of  our  brave  defenders,  landing  from  ob- 
ligatory tours  of  service,  and  confronted  on  the  wharf  by 
the  customs  men,  who  tax  the  clothing  which  has  been 
hastily  bought  in  Nagasaki  to  keep  the  defenders  and 
their  families  from  freezing,  or  being  "pulled"  by  the 
police  of  San  Francisco,  is  a  sight  to  divert  the  foreigner 
and  make  the  "angels  weep." 

Such  a  sad  thing  has  happened.  A  soldier  of  many 
enlistments  has  been  ill  in  the  hospital  for  some  weeks  and 
has  been  struggling  to  live  to  go  home  with  the  regiment. 
But  in  this  last  fight  the  odds  were  all  against  him,  and 
last  night  he  gave  up  the  battle.  To  have  held  out  until 
the  transport  was  in  the  bay  to  take  us  home  and  then  to 
have  been  worsted  after  all,  it  is  tragic. 

The  entire  command  turned  out  for  the  funeral.  The 
long  tan-colored  line,  flecked  here  and  there  with  the 
tricolor  of  the  flags,  marched  behind  the  flag-covered 
caisson  and  halted  beside  the  railroad  track,  where  the 
casket  was  lifted  into  a  baggage-car.  The  band  played 
"Nearer,  My  God,  to  Thee,"  and  a  trumpeter  stepped 
out  of  line  and  blew  "taps,"  and  the  train  pulled  out  of 
the  station  for  Manila.  Old  Hetzel,  "faithful  over  a  few 
things,"  is  to  go  home  with  the  regiment,  after  all. 

"Soldier,  soldier,  weary  of  wars. 

Where  is  thy  life's  rewarding? 
I  die  as  I  would,  in  honor's  fight; 
I  die,  as  I  lived,  for  truth  and  right; 
Fearless  my  soul  fares  forth  to-night, 

And  needs  no  other  guarding." 


Coachman,  Footman,  and  Carriage,  Old  Shanghai,  China 
Famous  "Crooked  Bridge,"  on  the  "Willow  Pattern,"  Old  Shanghai,  China 


Chinese  Sedan  Chair 
X    George's  House 


An  Army  Woman  in  the  Philippines  183 

United  States  Transport  Logan, 

January,  19 10. 

Homeward  bound  at  last!  Yesterday  the  regiment 
came  to  Manila  from  Camp  Stotsenburg,  going  directly  to 
the  transport,  and  here  we  are!  There  are  sick  in  the 
ship's  hospital  and  dead  in  the  hold;  but  there  are  happy 
hearts  aboard,  for  the  regiment's  long  two-years'  exile  is 
ended,  and  the  homeward-bound  pennant  floats  at  the 
masthead. 

All  the  world  of  Manila  came  to  see  us  off.  Flowers, 
laughter,  tears,  crowds  of  homesick  Americans  left  behind 
on  the  pier,  and  the  decks  lined  with  thin,  sallow  -  faced 
soldiers. 

As  our  boat  pulled  away  from  the  wharf  the  ships  in 
the  bay  whistled,  the  people  on  the  pier  cheered,  and  the 
band  played  an  old  hymn,  "We're  Going  Home  To- 
morrow." Part  of  the  fleet  is  anchored  off  Cavite,  and 
as  we  passed  the  Navy  ships  the  sailors  cheered  lustily,  the 
Army  band  answering  with  "Strike  Up  the  Band,  Here 
Come  the  Sailors." 

As  we  neared  the  Admiral's  flagship  the  officers  on  the 
forward  deck,  impressive  in  their  white  gold-trimmed 
uniforms,  saluted,  and  from  the  transport  our  bronze- 
faced  khaki-clad  Army  officers  returned  the  friendly 
greeting.  The  Admiral's  band  played  "Home,  Sweet 
Home,"  and  a  great  shout  went  up  from  the  combined 
forces  of  Uncle  Sam. 

This  goes  back  with  the  pilot — my  last  letter  from  the 
Orient.  It  leaves  us  sailing  down  to  the  sea,  with  hearts 
that  reach  out  for  home  and  harbor-hghts. 


